Queensland should replace the royal rag with a real state flag

Be honest now. Could you spot the Queensland flag in a line-up?

Congratulations if you can. Here, have a ribbon. But I’d be willing to bet the meagre contents of my wallet that not many of you could.

The Queensland flag flying above the Sydney Harbour Bridge in 2001, after yet another Maroons State of Origin victory. But would anyone have noticed?Credit: Dean Lewins/AAP

There’s certainly nothing on it that reflects our state in any meaningful way.

Let’s have a close look at it.

There, in the canton, is the Union Jack – an amalgam of the crosses of St Andrew (Scotland), St George (England) and St Patrick (Northern Ireland). Poor old Wales misses out.

The other 75 per cent of it – save for one symbol (more on that later) – is navy blue, in line with the hundreds of other defaced British blue ensigns representing some Commonwealth nations (this one included), overseas British territories, Australian states and more than a few yacht clubs.

Yacht clubs! What esteemed company we’re in.

Then there’s the “defaced” part of “defaced British blue ensign” – the Queensland state badge.

Finally, some actual Queensland representation on this unloved piece of cloth! Surely Queensland’s state badge would be a fine representation of who we are.

Wait, what was that? “On a roundel argent a Maltese Cross azure surmounted with a Royal Crown” you say? What, exactly, about Queensland does that represent? Its people? Its stunning beaches? Its outback? Its aspirations?

No, none of that. It sits in our flag as yet another tribute to an elitist, taxpayer-funded, cousin-marrying family on the other side of the globe (which, in fairness, is also reflected in the state’s name – something of which there is little to no appetite for change).

Most State of Origin series involve a bet between the premiers of Queensland and NSW. Lately, those bets have involved the premier of the losing side, almost exclusively NSW, wearing the winner’s jersey on the floor of that state’s parliament.

It used to be the winning state’s flag would fly over a major landmark in the losing state’s capital – in Brisbane’s case, the spectacular and iconic Story Bridge; in Sydney’s case, John Bradfield’s other, lesser, bridge design: the Sydney Harbour Bridge.

Why did that stop? Well, have a look at them side-by-side. Without looking closely, perhaps nobody could tell the difference. A thoroughly pointless bet.

There’s a lamentable sameness among Australian state flags. Each one follows an identical, boring, colonial formula – the British blue ensign, each with a different defacement.

The Northern Territory’s, meanwhile, is a true work of art. Its ochre colour and stylised Sturt’s desert rose means you’re Never Never in doubt about what that flag represents.

Queensland’s flag, meanwhile, could just as easily be flown above the town hall at Snootington-Upon-Tweedhaven during the annual Tea and Tophat Festival without anyone batting an eyelid.

It’s not just an aesthetic argument. In a time of truth-telling and reconciliation – damaged as it may have been during the Voice referendum – symbolism matters.

Like the Australian flag, the Queensland flag does not truly represent all of its people. Unlike the Australian flag, the Queensland flag would not find very many defenders. After all, how can a flag that’s so relatively unknown by so many of the people it purportedly represents reach any level of fervent protectionism?

Of course, all these arguments apply to the Australian flag as well. There are not many things more humiliating than seeing the Australian and British prime ministers side by side, with those flags behind their shoulders.

It really puts the colony in its place.

But from little things, big things grow. Perhaps the movement for change can start in the states, and how good would it be for “conservative” Queensland to be the progressive vanguard on this?

Harold Scruby, the executive director of new flag proponents Ausflag, said last year if one Australian state changed its flag, the rest would follow suit “like dominoes”, eventually leading to national change.

Premier Annastacia Palaszczuk, the risk-averse leader of the most reactionary state government in recent memory, still has a chance to leave office having made a mark on this state that could last – all things going well – for centuries.

She had the perfect chance to do it last year, when the Queen died and this masthead revealed the flag would probably  have to change anyway after the new King chose a different crown for his cypher.

Palaszczuk, so far, has shunned that royal tradition and kept the out-of-date flag in place.

What a missed opportunity.

It could have been a swift, unilateral decision, like the one made in Canada in 1965. Adopted by proclamation – and not without some controversy at the time – the Canadian flag is now among the most recognisable on the planet.

Such proclamations are the norm in Queensland. Indeed, it’s how we got our current flag in 1876 and how, a little over a year ago, a dearly missed colleague reported on the Muttaburrasaurus being named Queensland’s official state fossil.

Sure, we can hold a referendum if we must. It might almost be preferable. But if we don’t, royalists would have little to complain about the process, given that the decision on our current flag, made in a stuffy Admiralty office in London in 1876, was so profoundly undemocratic.

That decision has stood form for almost 1½ centuries. Palaszczuk still has the chance to make some long-lasting history of her own, before she walks – or is thrown – out the door.