Scotland Won’t Be Shamed Into Cheering For England

Claims of “anti-English sentiment” collapse under scrutiny - this is about football rivalry, not hatred & Scotland refuses to be guilt-tripped into compliance by out-of-touch Politicians & their ilk.

There is something uniquely tone-deaf, bordering on insulting, about the familiar spectacle of British politicians and media figures lecturing Scots on how they ought to feel about football, in particular the England national team.

With hours until England’s World Cup semi-final against Argentina kicks off, we are once again treated to a parade of Unionist earnestness calls for “unity”, accusations of “anti-English sentiment”, and a barrage of moralising pleas for Scotland to get behind the Three Lions. From Keir Starmer and Douglas Alexander to assorted Westminster voices and their cheerleaders in the commentariat, the message is clear - stop being petty, stop being tribal, and for once, just support England.

Fuck right off.

Let’s deal with the central fallacy first. Supporting England is not a moral obligation. It is not a test of decency, nor a litmus test for tolerance, nor some grand statement about the health of the Union. It is football. And in football, rivalry is not just tolerated - it is the point.

What these politicians fundamentally misunderstand or choose to ignore is that football rivalry in Scotland is not some shallow, performative pantomime that can be switched off when it becomes politically inconvenient. It is deep-rooted, generational, and culturally embedded. It is Celtic versus Rangers. It is Hearts versus Hibs. It is Dundee versus Dundee United. It is identity, community, and history wrapped up in ninety minutes of chaos and colour.

And crucially, it does not disappear just because a Westminster politician wants a feel-good headline.

The English Premier League, for all its global reach and financial dominance, has long since drifted into something resembling a tourist league - slick, sanitised, and often detached from the raw, local rivalries that once defined it. Manufactured narratives now fill the gaps where authentic hostility used to live. It is football as spectacle, not football as lived experience.

Scottish football, for all its flaws, has not gone that way. The rivalries are real. The emotions are real. And the idea that fans would simply cast that aside to cheer on a historic rival, because a politician told them to, is laughable.

Yet here we are.

We are told that failing to support England is somehow evidence of prejudice. That it reflects badly on Scotland. That it betrays a lingering “anti-Englishness” that must be confronted and corrected. It is a deeply patronising argument, rooted in a fundamental misreading of both football and Scottish identity.

Let’s be clear, not supporting England is not the same as hating England. It is perfectly possible to respect English people, culture, and even individual players, while still wanting their national team to lose. That is how football works. Irish fans do not rally behind England. Welsh fans do not abandon their loyalties in the name of British unity. Why, then, is Scotland uniquely expected to fall into line?

The answer, of course, lies not in football, but in politics.

This latest wave of outrage is less about sport and more about control, about reinforcing a particular vision of Britishness that demands conformity at moments of high visibility. A World Cup semi-final becomes an opportunity to stage-manage unity, to flatten difference, to insist that national distinctions are secondary to a broader British identity.

But that identity is not universally shared, and it certainly cannot be imposed through guilt-tripping football fans. Even more galling is the selective memory at play.

Where, exactly, was this call for unity during the weeks of build-up to this tournament? Where were the lectures about mutual respect when sections of the English media and yes, fans were busy belittling Scotland’s participation, mocking the Tartan Army, and reveling in familiar stereotypes?

Scottish fans were ridiculed, patronised, and dismissed. Their team was treated as an irrelevance. Their presence at the tournament was framed as little more than a novelty. And now, suddenly, we are expected to forget all of that. To rally behind the very same voices who spent weeks talking down to us.

It is not just hypocritical it is absurd.

Then there is the Falklands argument, perhaps the most cynical card of all. We are told that Scots should support England against Argentina out of respect for those who died in the Falklands War. That to do otherwise is somehow disrespectful, even dishonourable. It is a grotesque conflation of sport and conflict, one that cheapens both.

Football matches are not proxy wars. Supporting Argentina in a semi-final is not a political statement about the Falklands. To suggest otherwise is to exploit historical tragedy for the sake of a footballing narrative and to place an entirely inappropriate moral burden on supporters.

It is also worth noting the sheer inconsistency of this argument. If football loyalties are to be dictated by historical conflicts, where does it end? Are fans expected to conduct a geopolitical audit before every match? To align their support with the shifting sands of international relations?

Of course not. Because that is not how football works, and it never has been.

What we are really seeing is a kind of faux outrage, an orchestrated performance of indignation designed to shame Scots into compliance. The usual suspects wheel out familiar language, decrying “anti-English sentiment” while ignoring the very real and legitimate basis for footballing rivalry.

And then there are the Quisling Scots - the commentators, pundits, and self-appointed voices of reason who line up to tell their fellow countrymen to grow up, to get over it, to embrace a more “mature” perspective.

They present themselves as enlightened, as above the fray. But in reality, they are simply echoing the same tired arguments, repackaged with a veneer of intellectual superiority.

Football does not require that kind of sanitisation. It thrives on passion, on rivalry, on the very tribalism these voices seek to erase. To demand that Scottish fans abandon that in favour of a politically convenient narrative is not progressive, it is reductive.

And let us not pretend this pressure is evenly applied.

No one seriously expects English fans to support Scotland in similar circumstances. There is no chorus of politicians urging England to set aside rivalry and get behind the Tartan Army. There is no moral panic when English supporters celebrate Scottish defeats.

Because it is understood instinctively that football rivalry runs deep, and that it is entirely legitimate. Scotland, it seems, is not afforded the same understanding. Instead, we are subjected to lectures. To headlines. To a steady drip of commentary implying that our refusal to support England is somehow aberrant, something that needs to be explained, justified, or corrected.

It does not. It is normal. It is expected. It is, in many ways, the lifeblood of international football. And so we arrive at the inevitable conclusion.

These calls for unity are not about football. They are about optics. About projecting an image of togetherness that glosses over the very real differences in identity, culture, and perspective that exist within these islands, between all the home nations.

They are about telling Scots how they should feel, rather than listening to how they actually do. And they are about using football, a space that has always belonged to the fans, as a tool for political messaging to further attack the thought of Scottish Independence.

That is why they ring so hollow. Because you cannot manufacture genuine support through press releases, speeches in Parliament, and soundbites. You cannot override decades of rivalry with a well-timed appeal to sentiment. And you certainly cannot shame people into cheering for a team they have spent their entire lives wanting to see beaten.

So let’s dispense with the pretence. Scottish fans are under no obligation to support England. Not because of politics. Not because of history. And certainly not because a politician thinks it would look nice on television. They will support who they want. They will follow their instincts, their loyalties, and their traditions. And if that means backing Argentina in a World Cup semi-final, then so be it. That is not prejudice. That is football.

So to the out-of-touch politicians, the hand-wringing commentators, and the self-appointed arbiters of acceptable fandom, here is the reality - your appeals are not just unconvincing - they are unwelcome. Football does not belong to you. It never has. And no amount of faux outrage is going to change that.

Come on Argentina. Anyone but England.