Vexillology

Vexillology (pronounced vek-suh-lol-uh-jee)

The study of and the collection of information about flags.

1957 (and in print since 1959): The construct was vexill(um) + -ology.  Vexillum (the plural vexilla) was from the Latin vēxillum (flag, banner), from the Proto-Italic wekslolom (and synchronically a diminutive form of vēlum), from the Proto-Italic wekslom, from the primitive Indo-European wegslom, from weg- (to weave, bind) and cognate with the English wick.  The Latin vexillum translated literally as “flag; banner” but in English was used to mean (1) a flag, banner, or standard, (2) in military use a formation company of troops serving under one standard, (3) the sign of the cross, (4) in botany, the upper petal of a papilionaceous flower and (5) in ornithology, the rhachis and web of a feather taken together.  The suffix -ology was formed from -o- (as an interconsonantal vowel) +‎ -logy.  The origin in English of the -logy suffix lies with loanwords from the Ancient Greek, usually via Latin and French, where the suffix (-λογία) is an integral part of the word loaned (eg astrology from astrologia) since the sixteenth century.  French picked up -logie from the Latin -logia, from the Ancient Greek -λογία (-logía).  Within Greek, the suffix is an -ία (-ía) abstract from λόγος (lógos) (account, explanation, narrative), and that a verbal noun from λέγω (légō) (I say, speak, converse, tell a story).  In English the suffix became extraordinarily productive, used notably to form names of sciences or disciplines of study, analogous to the names traditionally borrowed from the Latin (eg astrology from astrologia; geology from geologia) and by the late eighteenth century, the practice (despite the disapproval of the pedants) extended to terms with no connection to Greek or Latin such as those building on French or German bases (eg insectology (1766) after the French insectologie; terminology (1801) after the German Terminologie).  Within a few decades of the intrusion of modern languages, combinations emerged using English terms (eg undergroundology (1820); hatology (1837)).  In this evolution, the development may be though similar to the latter-day proliferation of “-isms” (fascism; feminism et al).  Vexillology, vexillologist vexillographer, vexillophilia, vexillophile & vexillolatry are nouns, vexillological & vexillologic are adjectives; the most common noun plural is vexillologists.

A vexillographer is one who designs flags, standards & banners, a vexillophile is (1) someone who collects and displays flags and (2) one who studies flags, their history and meaning.  Although there are vexillophiles, there is in medicine no recognized condition known as vexillophilia (which would be a paraphilia describing the sexualized objectification of flags (ie flag) although following the convention established in recent revisions to the American Psychiatric Association's (APA) Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) (DSM-5 (2013) & DSM-5-TR (2022)), the correct clinical description would now be "foot partialism"; vexillophiles anyway prefer to describe themselves as "flag nerds".  Nor is there any record of there being instances of vexillophobia (a morbid fear of flags); there are those opposed to what flags represent  but that's not the same as being a vexillophobe which would be something specific about this type of bunting in general.  In political science, there is the word flagophobe (also as flagphobe), a derogatory term used usually by those on the right (and other nationalists) as a slur suggesting a want of patriotism in an opponent they’ve usually already labelled as “liberal”.  It's based on a metaphorical connection between a national flag and pride in one's country and is thus not a reference to a fear of flags in general.  To vexillize (or vexillate) can mean (1) to gather or to lead an army under a flag, (2) to organize or to lead people under a common cause or goal, (3) to make a flag (sewing, printing, digitally distributing etc), (4) to design a flag or (5) to introduce a specific depiction on a flag.

Wrapped: Vexillologist Lindsay Lohan and the stars & stripes.  The phrase “wrapping themselves self in the flag” is used of politicians who attempt to disguise their self-serving motives by presenting something as being in the national interest or being done for patriotic reasons.  The companion term is “patriotism is the last refuge of the scoundrel”, a observation made in 1775 by Samuel Johnson (1709-1784) of the hypocrisy of William Pitt (1708-1778 (Pitt the Elder); First Earl of Chatham & UK prime-minister 1766-1768).

Quite when the first flag was flown is not known but so simple is the concept and so minimal the technology required for fabrication that as forms of identification or communication they may have been among the earliest examples of symbolic representation.  Although the nation-state as its now understood is a relatively new creation (barely a thousand years old), prior to that there had for millennia been organized settlements with distinct identities and there is evidence from surviving works of art and drawings that something like a flag existed in the Mediterranean region as long ago as the fourth century BC and it’s possible such things were in use in China even earlier.  The familiar concept of the national flag evolved as the modern nation state emerged in Europe in the late Middle Ages and early modern period and traditionally, Denmark's Dannebrog is cited as the oldest national flag extant, having being in continuous use (though not always as the symbol of state) since the thirteenth century.

Denmark's Dannebrog (usually translated as "the cloth of the Danes").

The legend is that during a battle on 15 June 1219 in what is modern-day Estonia, the Danish army was on the defensive and defeat seemed imminent when suddenly, a red banner with a white cross fell from the sky.  As a result, the fortunes of war shifted, the Danish army won the battle and Denmark gained a flag.

Inherently, a small piece of colored glass three metres in the air can have no effect on a passing car yet the use of red, amber & green traffic lights is what makes modern road systems function as efficiently as they do.  They work because people (usually) respond as they should through the lens of semiotics, the signifier being the color of the light, the signified the instructions conveyed (green=”go”; amber=”prepare to stop or proceed with caution” & red=”stop”) and the referent the physical need to go, proceed only with caution or stop.  The power of the glass lies wholly in its symbolism and the implied consequences of ignoring its message.  Flags, mere pieces of fabric, have no inherent political or military force yet have for millennia been among the most valued and contested of symbols; men have died defending pieces of bunting which could have been replaced with a tick of a supply sergeant’s pen, simply because of the symbolism.  Symbolism has always been integral to the appeal of Nazism (and fascism in general) and by the early summer of 1942, on a map, the military position of Nazi Germany looked impressive, its forces still maintaining a presence in North Africa, most of Western Europe occupied from Norway to the south of France and the territorial gains from Operation Barbarossa reaching well into the Soviet Union.  However, the map substantially reflected the gains which had been made in 1941 and by mid-1942 it was clear to the German military they had under-estimated the ability of the Soviet armies to absorb losses and recover.  It was clear Germany no longer had the strength successfully to advance along the massive front created in 1941 and even Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) realized that, at least temporarily, more modest strategic aims would have to be pursued.

What Hitler set in train was a multi-pronged operation which would have been strategically sound had (1) the resources been available to sustain it and (2) there had not been such a gross under-estimation of the available Soviet military capacity.  Originally, the plan had been to advance on the Caucasus after the encirclement and destruction of the defending forces in the Stalingrad region and the occupation of the city itself.  This was changed, splitting the attacking force to allow the city and the Caucasus simultaneously to be conquered and the area envisaged was vast, including the eastern coast of the Black Sea, the forbidding Caucasian mountain passes and the oil fields of Grozny & Baku, far to the south.  The German generals didn’t need much more than the back of an envelope to work out it simply couldn’t be done and that rather than undertaking sound planning based on reliable intelligence, the Führer was indulging in little more than wishing & guessing.  “Wishing & guessing” was General George Marshall’s (1880–1959; US Army chief of staff 1939-1945) critique of Winston Churchill’s (1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955) dabblings in military matters and the comment wasn’t unjustified but the difference was that while the Allied high command was able to restrain (and if need be, veto) the prime-minister’s romantic (essentially Napoleonic) adventurism, the Wehrmacht’s generals and admirals had by 1942 long been dominated by Hitler.  The German army was however generally the most effective ground force of the war and remarkably, achieved some early tactical gains but such were the distances involved and the disparity of forces available that the offensive was not only doomed but culminated in the loss of some 230,000 troops at Stalingrad, a calamity from which the army never quite recovered and among the German people damaged the prestige of the regime to an extent no previous setback had done.

Third Reich War Flag, Mount Elbrus, August 1942.

Hitler, at least in 1942, wasn’t delusional and understood he was running a risk but his gambler’s instincts had for twenty years served him well and he still clung to the belief a strength of will could overcome many disadvantages, even on the battlefield.  Early in the war, that had worked when he was facing divided, unimaginative or week opponents but those days were over and he was well-aware he was playing for high stakes from a position of weakness.  That he was under great pressure and wracked by uncertainty (whatever might have been his outward displays of confidence) was probably the cause of a celebrated over-reaction to what was one of the war’s more trivial incidents: the planting of the Nazi war flag on the peak of Mount Elbrus, at 5,642 m (18,510 feet) the highest point in Europe.  Hitler thought pursuits like mountain climbing and skiing absurd but, like any practical politician, he liked a good photo-opportunity and had in peacetime been pleased to be photographed with those who had raised the swastika on some mountain or other (something which dedicated Nazis had been doing since the 1920s, long before the party gained power in 1933.  On 21 August 1942, the Third’s Reich’s war flag, along with the divisional flags of the 1st and 4th Divisions fluttered in the wind on the roof of Europe and news of the triumph was transmitted to FHQ (Führer Headquarters).

In the throes of the offensive driving towards Stalingrad and the Caucases, the alpine troops who climbed the peak to plant the flag doubtless though they were “working towards the Führer” and providing him a priceless propaganda piece.  They probably expected medals or at least thanks but Hitler was focused on his military objectives and knew he needed every available man to be devoted to his job and upon hearing two-dozen soldiers had decided to ignore their orders and instead climb up a hill of no strategic value, just to climb down again, his reaction was visceral, recalled in his memoirs by Albert Speer (1905–1981; Nazi court architect 1934-1942; Nazi minister of armaments and war production 1942-1945), then at FHQ:

“I often saw Hitler furious but seldom did his anger erupt from him as it did when this report came in. For hours he raged as if his entire plan of the campaign had been ruined by this bit of sport. Days later he went on railing to all and sundry about “those crazy mountain climbers” who “belong before a court-martial.” They were pursuing their idiotic hobbies in the midst of a war, he exclaimed indignantly, occupying an idiotic peak even though he had commanded that all efforts must be concentrated upon Sukhumi.”

The famous (and subtlety edited) photograph of the Soviet flag being raised over the Reichstag on 30 April 1945 during the Battle of Berlin (actually a staged-shot  taken on 2 May).

The Germans never made it to Sukhumi and the high-altitude sideshow by a handful of troops of course in no way affected the campaign but the reaction at FHQ was an indication of the pressure felt by Hitler.  The planting of a symbolic flag was also though symptomatic of the arrogance which had permeated the German military under the Nazis and it anyway proved a pyrrhic act of conquest, the standard torn down and replaced by the Soviet flag within six months; that the Russian army took the trouble to do that amid the clatter of war illustrates potency of national flags as propaganda devices.  One of the most famous photographs of the conflict was that of the Soviet flag in May 1945 being placed over the Reichstag in Berlin, a symbol of defeat of Nazism.  Interestingly, so important to the Kremlin was the image that the act was actually re-staged the next day, this time with a photographer in place to shoot a roll of film so the perfect shot could be selected and the Russians are not the only ones to have re-staged famous flag raisings.