Of Safety and Solidarity: On the Coming Game to Villa Park

They say football and politics should not mix — as though the pitch were sacred ground, untouched by the dust and din of the real world. But that is a comforting myth, a lullaby sung by those who have never felt politics at their doorstep. Football has always been political. It breathes through the songs we chant, the banners we raise, and the unseen gatekeepers who decide who may step inside and who must remain outside.

Not long ago, we shuttered our shops and bolted our doors on match days, when the streets around our stadiums fell under siege by the racist mobs of the National Front. Our communities bore the brunt of their hatred, and we swore we would never go back. Now that reckoning has returned to Birmingham — testing not the purity of sport, but the strength of our moral clarity.

The Safety of the Many

The ruling of Birmingham’s Safety Advisory Group (SAG) to exclude Maccabi Tel Aviv’s away supporters from the upcoming Europa League match at Villa Park was not prejudice but prudence. It was grounded not in ideology but in intelligence — in the careful phrase “current intelligence and previous incidents.” Those words carry weight, evoking Amsterdam: a November night in 2024 when football’s theatre became one of menace rather than joy.

Maccabi Tel Aviv, one of Israel’s oldest and most celebrated clubs, commands a passionate following in Israel and among international supporters. Given Israel’s policy of mandatory conscription, many of its supporters have served or continue to serve in the Israel Defence Forces. In Amsterdam, however, a faction among them turned fervour into fury — tearing Palestinian flags from balconies and chanting “Let the IDF win, and f*** the Arabs!” “Why is school out in Gaza? There are no children left there.” “Death to Arabs!” It was not rivalry, but racial hatred disguised as loyalty.

When such bile travels under the banner of sport, safety becomes a moral duty. The SAG’s caution was neither antisemitic, as claimed by Keir Starmer, nor an act of cowardice, but conscience made procedural — the act of remembering Amsterdam not as spectacle, but as a warning. To ignore that lesson would be to invite its ghosts into Birmingham’s streets.

Hate, Territory, and Fear

This local decision cannot be detached from the national landscape — a Britain thick with unease, where belonging feels conditional and the language of hate has become everyday currency. The Home Office recorded over 147,000 hate crimes last year in England and Wales, most motivated by race or religion. Behind each number lies a story of fear lived in the open.

Across the country, the symbols of menace are multiplying. In September 2025, Tommy Robinson led the “Unite the Kingdom” march — the largest far-right mobilisation in modern British history, drawing more than 100,000 supporters to London. In Weoley Castle and Northfield, a group calling themselves the Weoley Warriors mounted Union Jacks on lampposts, staking territory one pole at a time.

And the threats are no longer symbolic. In Oldbury, a young Sikh woman was abducted and subjected to a racist rape — an act of hatred both sexual and political, intended to terrorise an entire community. In Manchester, worshippers at a synagogue were attacked during evening prayers, their sanctuary violated in what police described as a targeted antisemitic assault. In Quinton, Birmingham, a mosque was firebombed in the early hours, its prayer hall scorched and its congregation left shaken but defiant. Across the Midlands, Sikh taxi drivers have been beaten, Muslim teenagers harassed and spat at, and far-right gangs have filmed their intimidation for online applause.

These are not isolated ruptures but symptoms of a deeper corrosion — a social fever fanned by politicians who mistake toughness for truth. Birmingham, a city forged through migration and mutual survival, now finds itself the stage upon which these anxieties are played out.

Mainstream parties, worried about losing voters to the far right, now repeat its language. Every slogan about “integration” or “cracking down” further corrodes civility. Into that vacuum, the far right marches, their boots echoing through a silence left by others. Against this backdrop, the SAG’s decision was not merely bureaucratic; it was ethical. A small act of resistance in a nation where decency is too often mistaken for disloyalty.

The Local Reality

From the nation to the neighbourhood: Aston, the ward that cradles Villa Park, is a mosaic of lives and languages. According to the 2021 Census, around 70% of its 24,000 residents identify as Asian, roughly 16% as Black, and nearly three-quarters as Muslim. It is one of Britain’s most deprived wards — dense, vibrant, and resilient.

These are not abstractions to me. In the late 1980s, I worked as a youth worker at Saathi House in Aston, opposite the football ground. I came to know the area not as a statistic but as a rhythm — the call to prayer mingling with the roar from the terraces, conversations flowing in Punjabi, Bengali, Jamaican Patois, and Brummie English.

Later, as founder of the Simmer Down Festival in Handsworth Park, I spent sixteen summers balancing celebration with responsibility. We reported to the same Safety Advisory Group that now oversees Villa Park. We knew that public joy carries public duty. The SAG’s caution is born not of fear but of experience written in the city’s pavements and people’s patience.

And this comes after Robert Jenrick’s sneer that Handsworth was “as close as I’ve come to a slum.” Such words, though condemned, still license bigotry — turning Birmingham itself into a target for contempt. In this city, safety has never been only about policing crowds; it is the daily work of coexistence, the quiet labour of keeping the civic heart from breaking.

The Double Standard

When Russia invaded Ukraine in 2022, UEFA and FIFA acted swiftly — banning its teams, declaring that sport must not launder war. Yet when the same principle is applied to Israel — accused by international jurists of war crimes and genocide in Gaza, where over 65,000 civilians have been killed — silence prevails.

This is not oversight but orchestration. Power bends ethics into convenience. A sporting boycott, once central to the struggle against apartheid South Africa, is now dismissed as antisemitism — a term too often misused as shield, not truth. Many Jewish voices reject this distortion, affirming that solidarity with Palestinians is not hostility to Jews.

To demand consistency is not fanaticism but fidelity — fidelity to the belief that justice must mean the same, whether the aggressor is Moscow or Tel Aviv.

The State Against the City

Local wisdom met political vanity — and lost. The SAG, police, and local authorities reached a reasoned conclusion: the match was high-risk and the threat substantial. Yet Prime Minister Keir Starmer, in an act of political theatre, demanded the decision be reversed. What began as a safety ruling became a national referendum on loyalty.

Starmer’s intervention had little to do with football and everything to do with optics. Having built his political identity on unwavering support for Israel, he could not allow Birmingham’s caution to be framed as principle. So the narrative was rewritten: a public safety decision recast as antisemitism, a local concern painted as prejudice. The result is not leadership but distortion — nuance erased for political choreography.

Now the city that sought to protect itself is scapegoated, its multiracial population portrayed as the “problem,” while those chanting for death in Gaza are framed as victims. In this reversal, Birmingham becomes both symbol and scapegoat — its restraint punished for daring to speak its conscience. Starmer has not only overruled a local safety body; he has undermined the moral authority of a city and emboldened those who seek to divide it.

The Arsonists of Division

And as if on cue, the arsonists have arrived. Tommy Robinson, welcomed as a “friend” in Israel, has declared his intention to stand with Maccabi Tel Aviv in Birmingham. That should be warning enough. Yet instead of alarm, the government offers indulgence. The far right smells permission, sensing that power itself flirts with their rhetoric.

These agitators do not seek justice but combustion — to turn solidarity into suspicion, conscience into conflict. They thrive where leadership abdicates. Those who campaigned for safety, like Birmingham Perry Barr MP Ayoub Khan, now face racist abuse and vilification. Their vigilance is recast as extremism. To see this inversion clearly — and refuse it — is an act of moral defence.

The Measure of a City

The question before Birmingham is not religious, nor national, but moral. Who do we protect, and at what cost? Upholding the SAG’s decision defends a city’s right to self-preservation — the right to act on conscience rather than convenience. It rejects imported violence and the politics of intimidation. It reminds the nation that safety, too, is solidarity: the quiet courage of saying no when others demand yes.

Restraint, in a season of recklessness, is strength. It is the measure of a city that remembers its own history of struggle and refuses to pawn its peace for political posturing.

Epilogue: The Moral Scoreline

As I write, news arrives that the derby between Maccabi Tel Aviv and Hapoel Tel Aviv has been called off by Israeli police, citing “public disorder and violent riots.” Even far from Birmingham, the flames of this crisis burn through the thin veil that once separated sport from politics.

When the whistle blows at Villa Park — whether before a crowd or behind closed gates — the result that matters will not be measured in goals, but in whether Birmingham stood for decency when it was hardest to do so. Football, like politics, mirrors the soul of a society. Every decision reflects who we are: whether we defend life or spectacle, peace or provocation, conscience or compliance.

At yesterday’s packed community meeting, one message rang clear: whatever edicts come from above, the guardianship of our city belongs to us — the people of Birmingham. We will not be spectators to our own story. Together with the people of Aston, we are forging a proud, broad coalition — anti-racist organisations, Palestinian solidarity groups, youth collectives, community elders, grassroots organisers — united in purpose, disciplined in action, and steadfast in peace, holding the line.

Where fear seeks to fracture us, our solidarity will hold firm. Where hatred would divide us, our unity will stand as the wall that cannot be breached. Let those who come to sow discord hear this clearly: Birmingham stands unbroken, vigilant, and alive with the spirit of justice. We will protect our neighbourhoods through collective, defensive action and unwavering mutual care.

We stand with Aston Villa — Palestine will live forever.

Further reading:

Mukhtar Dar also wrote an article titled “Handsworth: The Colour Jenrick Couldn’t See” for the IRR, examining issues of race and perception in the area. Click here to read.