By Matthew Cahill
August 15 marked the long-awaited return of the Premier League, after a summer spent passing the time with golf, tennis, and whatever else could fill the void. Yet the football itself was quickly overshadowed—not by results or controversy on the pitch, but by an incident involving a Liverpool supporter in the disabled section and Bournemouth’s near-hero of the day, Antoine Semenyo. In the days that followed, Merseyside Police confirmed the arrest of a 47-year-old man on suspicion of a racially aggravated public order offence.
But here lies the harder truth: should anyone really be surprised? Sadly, the answer is probably no. And the reason, though uncomfortable to admit, is clear—the current political climate in Britain (with Ireland seemingly following close behind) does more to stoke division than to dismantle it. When rhetoric from the top normalises exclusion and hostility, it is hardly shocking when such ugliness spills into the stands.
Yes, the Premier League, the EFL, and the FA can plaster stadiums with anti-racism slogans and stage awareness campaigns, and yes, these gestures are appreciated, even encouraging—but ultimately toothless. The truth remains that as long as the nation’s leaders continue to fan the flame of racism and xenophobia nothing is going to change.
The most candid example of such trickledown racism can be found in a recent speech delivered by UK Prime Minister, addressing concerns over immigration. It’s all well and good to have Premier League players take the knee before matches, but when Kier Starmer takes the podium on the steps of Downing Street to warn that Britain is in danger of becoming an “island of strangers”, absolutely no amount of inclusive and anti-racism gestures could defuse this sort of rhetoric when it is literally coming from the top of the political food-chain. However, this tactic of fostering division through fearmongering has always been around. In fact, Starmer’s remarks were reminiscent of Enoch Powell’s notorious 1968 speech which inflamed racial tensions when he declared that native Britons were becoming “strangers in their own country.”
Even a half-century later Boris Johnson authored a column in the Telegraph wherein he claimed Muslim women sporting burqas resembled “letter boxes” and “bank robbers.” Unsurprisingly, Big Boris’ remarks led to a 375% surge in anti-Muslim attacks. Boris’ punishment? The keys to 10 Downing Street just a year later. It is this culture of permissiveness at the top that gives license to prejudice at the bottom.
To put this lack of accountability into perspective, look no further than football itself. Gary Neville’s comments after England beat Denmark in 2021 were telling: he praised Gareth Southgate as a leader – “respectful, humble, [someone who] tells the truth, genuine” – qualities glaringly absent from much of the country’s political leadership. Meanwhile, Boris Johnson donned a retro England shirt in a clumsy bid for patriotism, calling on the “whole country” to support the team while simultaneously stoking tension by refusing to condemn fans who booed players taking the knee. Neville’s words cut through the performative optics because they reflected reality, not a carefully staged image.
This disconnect between flashy gestures and genuine responsibility illustrates the wider consequences of trickle-down influence. When those at the top normalise fear, prejudice, or exclusion, it seeps into everyday life—from stadiums to workplaces, online spaces, and communities. The Liverpool/Bournemouth incident is not an anomaly; it is a symptom of a political culture that tacitly condones the “othering” of fellow people. Football may inspire moments of pride and unity, but it cannot inoculate society against the toxic effects of leadership that legitimises division.
Trickle-down racism is real, and it starts at the top. Until politicians are held accountable for the tone they set, and until leadership—political or otherwise—models decency and inclusion, both the pitch and the streets will continue to mirror their prejudices. No amount of slogans or players taking the knee will change the fact that racism doesn’t start in the stands, it slowly seeps down from the very top.