A COUPLE of years ago, around this time of year, I was taking part in a TV discussion programme when the researcher approached me with a poppy in hand, ready to pin to my lapel.

“Look,” I said. “I really like to see other people wearing the November poppy, but I can’t wear one myself because, in Ireland, it is a signal that you are an Ulster Unionist. And I’m not.”

“Oh everyone wears one for TV,” the girl said, lightly. “It’s just a paper poppy.” Again, I had to explain that while I absolutely respected “everyone” else for wearing poppies, and while I felt positively moved to see so many young people showing a sense of patriotic pride, it just had a different historical signal in Ireland, where British TV is also seen. In the end, I was allowed to appear poppy-less. I felt I was being a little churlish about a minor matter, but that is how it is: I cannot change tribal loyalties.

In Britain, the poppy is a symbol of unity — uniting young and old, people of all classes and backgrounds. In Ireland it is a signal of division. It means, on the whole, that in the historic conflict of identities as to whether “Britain” or “Ireland” holds your primary loyalty, the wearer asserts that she is primarily British.

At a rational level, the young TV researcher who said “it’s just a paper poppy” was right. It is indeed just that — a piece of paper fashioned into the shape of a flower. Objectively, it is nothing at all, just as, objectively, a flag is only a combination of colours, a cross is merely a short bar intersected by a long bar, and a swastika is nothing more than an ancient Sanskrit emblem which, incidentally, adorns the early editions of the works of Rudyard Kipling.

And yet it is characteristic of the human condition to invest tremendous significance in these signs and symbols. There is an entire academic discipline devoted to signs and symbols — semiotics — which suggests that they are as complex as language itself. Countless millions of pounds and dollars are spent in the promotion of the consumer symbol known as “the logo” — for example, the particular way in which Coca-Cola is written — which imparts a unique sense of brand recognition.

Signs and symbols are, arguably, more powerful in our time than ever before because of the information revolution. When we have so much data to take into our conscious minds, a symbol, or an icon, may be the most effective way of instant communication. When we see someone wearing the Aids ribbon, or the pink breast cancer research fund ribbon, we understand what they are saying without having to use language at all.

The poppy question troubles me, though, because it represents a friction between my rational mind and my subconscious — even, perhaps, my part in a Jungian “collective unconscious”. At a rational level I genuinely think the poppy is a wonderful way to express gratitude to the men and women who gave their lives, their health and their futures so that we could benefit from the freedom and democracy in which we are fortunate enough to live. Tears spring to my eyes when I pass a local war memorial which simply says: “When you go home, tell them of us and say, for your tomorrow we gave our today.”

Logically and objectively, I support everything the poppy stands for. I think it is utterly right to honour servicemen and servicewomen. I certainly intend to contribute to Lord Tebbit’s appeal to set up a special monument to the Battle of Britain pilots, whom I hugely admire. As a journalist, I would think it a greater privilege to meet a Battle of Britain veteran than David Beckham, Elton John and Jude Law, all sitting together.

As an Irishwoman, I am not at all hostile, either, to the poppy-wearing Ulster Unionists. Indeed, if asked to name the most decent politician in all Ireland, I would probably cite David Trimble, whom I like, and who I truly believe is honest. Objectively and logically, I also like and admire the legacy of the British Empire. I have done some research on Catholic missionaries in Africa and Asia and I’ve been impressed by the enlightened attitudes that the Empire often helped to promote in these parts of the world. I thought Benjamin Zephaniah showed ignorance of history when he refused an honour because it was associated with the British Empire, denouncing imperial rule as cruel and oppressive: if he had read certain accounts of missionaries trying to stop little girls of 9 being sold into a dubious marriage or widows being saved from the funeral pyre by the intervention of the Imperial Crown, surely he would not take such an ill-informed view. The British Empire was often a force for good. This is the analysis of my rational mind.

I am pleased to see my English husband wear his poppy with pride, and on those occasions when I have accompanied him to a Church of England Remembrance Day service, I have pinned a poppy to my lapel at the church door, as a gesture of solidarity with the congregation, for that specific duration. But church service over, some ancestral voice prompts me to remove it. The poppy symbolises their tribe, not mine, however “objectively” I may admire what it signals.

We have a mug in our kitchen cupboard with comes from Ely, Cambridgeshire. It shows a picture of an old Tudor mansion and bears the legend: “Oliver Cromwell’s House”. And I cannot drink a cup of coffee from that mug. Funny thing, the irrational mind.

Mary Kenny’s latest book is Germany Calling: a Personal Biography of Lord Haw-Haw