Tunnel of hate

The stink of sectarianism is again rife after the first Old Firm match of the season. The idea abroad – literally abroad – of an evil mass taunting an opposing sea of innocents is preposterous. I was there at Parkhead that day and saw and heard something very different.
     Unknowingly, I happened to walk to the stadium along the route allotted to Celtic supporters. Ugly metal fences had been erected, segregating supporters on either side of a barren 'no man's land'. Surrounded by thousands of green and white clad bodies, I was reassured by the general mood of joviality. Even as they entered the grounds of Celtic Park, the fans were still amiable, grabbing snacks and queuing up for tickets. The police were relaxed and unperturbed, though it did sicken me to see that their steeds had plastic visors fixed over their eyes.
     Trouble started in the tunnel – an outrageously narrow, dark space lined with turnstiles, Celtic supporters being swept through from both directions. It was there that behaviour changed dramatically and chants erupted. Instantly I felt threatened. Deafening songs laced with obscenities and the lines 'Go hame ya huns' and 'God bless the Pope' came blasting out. The noise reverberated on surrounding walls, louder and louder. Many in the tunnel sang, not the minority we are often led to believe. Young children were present, silently being conditioned by the 'responsible' adults around them – another generation poisoned.
     Feeling dizzy, I stumbled through, knocked this way and that by unapologetic bodies. A reek of alcoholic breath and wet concrete lingered in the cramped space. Hostility was directed towards events staff by ticket-less or drunken fans denied entry.
     Glad to reach the other end and fresh air, I headed towards the opposite side of the no man's land, to the opposition. The mood there was more sombre. The odd shout about 'getting rid of the fenians' was audible, with one fan attempting a solo 'Rule Britannia'. Yet policing was more stringent with all tickets checked before anyone could pass through the outer gates.
     An anti-Irish chant about the potato famine sung by Rangers supporters during the match has provoked the Irish Government to voice its concern. The club's response has been pathetic – a website post claiming that Rangers are being 'targeted' while other perpetrators are ignored. True, less has been said about the Celtic goalkeeper who openly taunted opposing fans. Less still, if anything, about the confrontational atmosphere outside the ground.
     But let's get one thing clear – both sides are the problem.
     Sectarianism is division. Division stopping conversation. Division making solution impossible. Our approach is like the tunnel, narrow and one-sided. These disgusting chants which made me feel so unnerved and threatened cannot be policed during games. The second the whistle is blown for kick-off, it's too late. The curse of sectarianism has to be solved outside the stadium – in streets and houses all over Scotland. The human behaviour I witnessed in the tunnel suggests that when caged in a tight space, we turn to aggression and intimidation. Inside the stadium is even worse, with opposing fans facing each other – triggering taunts and reactions.
     There is no immediate panacea for this disease. But I'm clear about one thing – I have no plans to return to an Old Firm game until one is found.

[click here] for Islay McLeod's photo essay on sectarian Glasgow