From manga to megaphone: why the ‘One Piece’ pirate flag is flying at protests worldwide

A cartoon skull in a straw hat is suddenly everywhere. From Nepal’s parliament gates to Jakarta’s seawalls and Manila’s Luneta Park, Gen Z protesters are hoisting the One Piece Jolly Roger — Luffy’s grinning skull-and-bones — as a shorthand for anger, unity, and a future they say is being stolen.

In Indonesia, the flag has been taped to homes and slapped on motorbikes and trucks — part of a youth-led backlash over politicians’ perks and corruption. Officials bristled, with some calling the flag “treason” and “propaganda to disunite the country.” Rights groups pushed back: Amnesty International warned authorities that seizing flags and hunting muralists tramples free expression.

In Nepal, the same banner was draped over the gilded gates of Singha Durbar as young protesters toppled the government. And in the Philippines, the flag waved over crowds furious about alleged flood-relief graft.

“We see the flag as a symbol of liberation against oppression,” said 23-year-old organizer Eugero Vincent Liberato. “We should always fight for the future we deserve.”

The straw-hat skull has also popped up beyond Asia — from London’s pro-Palestinian marches to rallies in Paris.

The appeal is built in. One Piece — Eiichiro Oda’s 1997 manga turned anime (and now Netflix series) — is a global juggernaut with 500M+ copies in print. Its heroes are pirates who defy a corrupt world order; their flag means freedom, loyalty, and standing up to bullies. You don’t need a manifesto — just a symbol millions instantly recognize.

Media scholars say that’s the point.

“This generation grew up immersed in pop culture — and it fuels their civic imagination,” notes USC’s Henry Jenkins.

In recent years, youth movements have borrowed the Hunger Games three-finger salute (Thailand, Myanmar), Harry Potter motifs (Thailand), even K-pop fandom tactics (South Korea). The One Piece Jolly Roger slots right in: playful, memetic, and political.

“It becomes a uniting symbol that lets youths rally around common causes,” adds Natalie Pang of the National University of Singapore.

Oklahoma State’s Nuurrianti Jalli says visual icons “elevate what people are trying to say without needing every word” — perfect for social media where images outrun speeches.

Crackdowns can supercharge the signal. In Indonesia, talk of “treason,” flag seizures, and mural clean-ups only made the skull-and-straw-hat harder to ignore — spreading it faster online. As one Jakarta artist put it while finishing a seaside mural, it’s a warning to government: listen.

The demands vary — clean elections here, flood funds there — but the throughline is shared: dignity, accountability, a livable future. Or as a Nepal organizer put it, the flag “symbolizes aggression and determination to push anything that comes in its way.”

Gen Z didn’t invent protest iconography. They’re just remixing it at internet speed—turning a pirate flag from a beloved series into a portable, global billboard for resistance.

The Guardian, CBC, and CNN contributed to this report.