The Soul of Celtic vs. the Rule of the Board 

By Aidan Connor

There have been times in our history when the tension between the board and the fans has seemed at a tipping point, and that feeling has never been more present than it is now. It feels like a cultural fracture, a deep disruption in the relationship between a club built by its community and a board that all too often acts as if it owns that same community. The most recent rebellion within the fanbase is not a spontaneous outburst or a temporary fit of rage but is the result of years of decisions that appear to ignore the emotional gravity of what Celtic is. Supporters see the club as a living continuation of their ancestors’ stories told at dinner tables, heroes celebrated in bars all over the world, and a sense of identity formed in the shadow of hardship and hope. When the board dismisses that emotion or acts as if supporters are an inconvenience to be managed rather than a legacy to be preserved, a reaction is unavoidable. Rebellion is born out of love, not for the sake of rebellion. 

History teaches us that rebellion is not necessarily about violence or upheaval but dignity, belonging, and the right to shape one’s own story. In Scottish classrooms, students learn about William Wallace as a national hero, a man who fought against the erosion of identity and the devaluation of his people. That act of defiance against impossible odds, and communities surviving on pride even when wealth was absent, is a sentiment shared by Celtic supporters today. Clan or club, phone or sword, we as fans cannot simply turn off the instinct to rebel against a regime that doesn’t care about us and only wants our money. The banners, protests, and songs are not hostile acts – they are cultural expressions of a fanbase that refuses to be patronised, ignored, or transformed into passive consumers. When the board positions itself as the arbiter of what Celtic can be, it misunderstands the club’s founding principles and misjudges the people whose blood runs through its terraces. 

This is what makes the club’s opposition to a simple 3-5 year plan proposed at the AGM so perplexing, and frankly embarrassing. Modern football clubs around the world, including those with a fraction of Celtic’s budget, have long-term structures for recruitment, development, succession planning, data analysis, coaching identities, and financial strategy. Watching Celtic, a club with resources unrivalled in its domestic landscape, fight against the mere concept of a long-term plan reveals a level of internal dysfunction that supporters are entitled to question. A 5-year plan is neither radical nor revolutionary. It is the bare minimum for any organisation seeking stability and progress. That Celtic fans must demand something so simple tells its own story. The supporters should not be pleading for structure while the board clings desperately to the comforts of short-termism, reactive decisions, and personality-driven governance. The current resistance indicates a fear of planning and exposing incompetence rather than failing. 

The Green Brigade’s punishment was another decision that revealed the disconnect between the board’s perception of the problem and the reality inside Celtic Park. Banning a group may silence a few drums and take down a few banners, but it does nothing to address the underlying emotions that caused the unrest in the first place. The Celtic board appears to be under the impression that the Green Brigade is the source of fan rage rather than a symptom of a much larger problem. You can remove a section, but you cannot remove the sentiment that pervades the rest of the stadium.

Frustration with stagnation, strategic Celtic supporters’ frustration is not limited to a single group. It spans generations, stands, and the club’s entire identity. The board punishes individuals while ignoring the message, thereby deepening the divide. A club that used to pride itself on being a family now feels like one in which dissent is met with isolation. 

There is a whole field of negotiation and crisis psychology that teaches leaders how to deal with conflict through empathy, alignment, and the gradual development of trust — the exact opposite of the tone the board has taken. Hostage negotiators understand that you do not deescalate tension by telling someone they are wrong but by fostering a sense of partnership, acknowledging their point of view, and building small bridges of mutual understanding. If Celtic’s board had even a basic understanding of these principles, the club would not be stuck in this never-ending cycle of conflict and resentment. Instead, they double down, issue statements that appear authoritative but actually come across as defensive, and treat their own supporters as irritants rather than stakeholders. In negotiation, the first rule is simple – people must feel heard before they will listen. However, Celtic’s leadership appears determined to skip straight to instruction, forgetting that authority is earned through respect rather than power. 

Part of the solution lies in emotional discipline. I recommend reading the book “The Chimp Paradox.” The book famously depicts the idea that an instinctive, irrational “chimp” lives inside every human being, reacting emotionally before the rational mind can catch up. As a result, for every rational thought, there is an irrational one. A thought that isn’t ‘you’ but you ‘think it’ and have the ability to control yourself. Watching Peter Lawwell at the AGM was a perfect example of this phenomenon. Instead of composure, he displayed irritation, instead of empathy, he provided deflection and instead of leadership, he demonstrated the very emotional volatility that has fuelled years of fan distrust. His inability to control his “chimp,” or instinctive frustration when challenged, revealed more about the club’s internal culture than any statement could. A leader who is unable to control his own reactions cannot be expected to lead an institution as emotionally charged as Celtic. Supporters saw a man whose patience had run out, whose ego had been bruised, and whose instinct was to push back rather than reflect. It was a deeply revealing moment for a club that values emotional intelligence, community, and collective memory. 

Now, Wilfried Nancy’s arrival appears to be a step in the right direction for fans. Nancy brings a football philosophy based on adaptability, fluidity, and the belief that every player should be capable of playing multiple roles on the pitch. Positional interchange was not a luxury for his Montreal and Columbus teams, it was required. In that context, Celtic’s squad appears both promising and incomplete. Many of our players have been trained to excel in a single role but lack the tactical flexibility Nancy requires. Under his system, a full-back must switch from midfield to winger in an instant, a midfielder must be able to float between the lines and drop into defensive cover and a forward must press, create, and act as a link all at the same time. This philosophy will either reveal the hidden brilliance in some players or expose the limitations in others, but one thing is certain – static footballers will not last long under Nancy. His vision calls for intelligence, awareness, and bravery. If every player must be able to play two positions, Nancy’s tenure should begin with a thorough evaluation of our team’s mental and tactical agility.

In the wake of the 2–1 defeat to Hearts, will he get that time? The cracks in this vision were painfully obvious. Nancy’s system demands sharp movement, aggressive rotations, and total commitment but Celtic simply don’t have the players to execute it right now. Hearts’ first goal is the perfect example, a moment that could have been prevented with a bit of urgency, a bit of awareness, and a bit of sheer willingness to do the basics. Instead, we looked passive, almost confused, as if the instructions were too complicated with everyone looking around asking if they were standing in the right place. That raises an uncomfortable question – does Wilfried Nancy truly have the experience and instincts to manage a club of Celtic’s size, with its pressure, expectations, and relentless demand for immediate standards? I’m fully behind developing young talent and giving “project” players the room to grow – but a “project” manager is a different story. Celtic can’t afford a season spent learning on the job. If this philosophy is going to work, the manager needs to show he can adapt, motivate, and demand intensity from minute one. Right now, the system feels like an idea that the squad can’t reach and this club won’t facilitate or give the time for the system to work. 

Martin O’Neill’s unexpected return struck a chord with fans. It felt like an expression of understanding of what fans want, and it was a masterstroke by Desmond. O’Neill understands what Celtic is. He understands the emotional architecture that holds this club together, and how supporters attach symbolic meaning to expressions of gratitude and connection. The question now is whether Wilfried Nancy will understand that connection. Not whether he will replicate the gesture, but whether he will comprehend the symbolism behind it. At Celtic, moments count, appreciation is important, supporters seek authenticity rather than spectacle. This is why Ange had such widespread support, fans related to his upbringing and the way he described his father and life. Managers who ignore this will find themselves fighting against the very people who should be supporting him as soon as we fail to perform because we lack an emotional connection. 

When discussing legacy, it is impossible to ignore the presence of Jock Stein, the architect of Celtic’s identity and the man whose philosophy, bravery, and vision can still be heard in the club’s corridors. Stein’s greatness lay not only in what he won, but in the identity he created. Martin O’Neill perfectly captured that sentiment when he dismissed attempts to elevate his own legacy and instead directed all praise to Stein with humility and reverence. His response was not staged but served as a reminder that all of us – players, managers, directors, and fans – are simply following in the footsteps of legends. However, the board frequently appears to be detached from this understanding. Dermot Desmond has been with the club for about two decades, and Peter Lawwell is the same. However, they account for only a small portion of Celtic’s 137-year history. They may have control over decisions, but not over meaning. Supporters carry meaning by passing down stories from generation to generation. When the board speaks “for the club” they sometimes forget that the true custodians are the people and not the executives whose tenure is limited. Families who have lived in this club for generations. 

O’Neill’s run of seven wins in eight games has done more than just stabilise results, it has revitalised a squad that had begun to appear fatigued and directionless. Players who appeared constrained under Rodgers now appear liberated, energised, and focused. The transformation was not purely tactical, it was also emotional. O’Neill gave the players permission to enjoy themselves, to rediscover instinct, to play without the paralysis of over-analysis. In many ways, he laid the groundwork for Nancy to inherit, not a broken squad, but a revitalised one. Confidence is a currency in football, and O’Neill restored it faster than anyone expected. He transformed stagnation into momentum, whether through man-management, tactical tweaks, or simply his presence. Supporters are left wondering whether the club made the right decision in treating his tenure as temporary. Could he’ve stayed? Should he have gotten the job permanently? Or was his role always intended to be that of a bridge, the figure who kept the ship stable so Nancy could begin steering it? Fans will debate that question for years, but in any case, O’Neill has left Nancy with a revitalised team.

Celtic are now entering what can only be described as sniper-alley territory, with a December schedule riddled with traps that can derail momentum before Nancy even enters his office. A crucial Europa League match against Roma, a League Cup final against St Mirren, and a top-of-the-table clash with Hearts all come within ten tense days. There has been failure with Hearts, but soon we will know if an extra four days in the building will help come Thursday evening. This is the type of run that establishes reputations and defines seasons. Nancy faces an immediate and severe dilemma – should he risk implementing his philosophy right away, accepting that early mistakes could cost him trophies? Or does he keep O’Neill’s shape and rhythm while delaying his revolution for the sake of achieving results? There is no right answer, only risk on one side and opportunity on the other. This is where great managers earn their stripes. If you adapt too slowly, you’ll lose time. If you adapt too quickly, you risk losing matches. The coming month will put Nancy’s tactical intelligence to the test, as well as his judgement, composure, and ability to communicate clearly with a squad still adjusting to change. 

Individual journeys can serve as a reminder that success and identity are not fixed. In 2019, I worked as a waiter at the Glasgow Central Station hotel alongside another waiter, a quiet, polite young man named Alfie Agyeman. He’d just been released by Motherwell, and he wasn’t sure what his future held, or if football still had room for him. Today, he plays for Falkirk and is forging his own path in the professional game. His story, as humble as it may appear, contains a truth that I believe we should remember – that we are not defined by yesterday. We are defined by the causes we choose to fight for today. Clubs, like individuals, can rebuild and rediscover themselves. Stumbles do not end stories, they reveal character. If Agyeman can progress from table clearing to goal scoring, Celtic can overcome internal conflict and misdirection to usher in a new era under Nancy. Progress is not guaranteed, but it is always possible if you have the will to pursue it. 

Nothing captures the emotional theatre of Celtic like the farewell and welcome posts on social media. Martin O’Neill’s departure post received more engagement than Nancy’s arrival post, a symbolic reminder that connection is more important than novelty. The notion that O’Neill does not understand younger generations crumbles under the weight of 60,000 likes from the same demographic that some claim he cannot reach. This is a man who, without even trying, speaks directly to people who have grown up with screens, algorithms, and endless streams of content. He does so not through branding, but rather through sincerity. Nancy will need to earn that connection. It can’t be demanded. It cannot be produced. It should be felt. His first interview hinted at a strong mindset — a dedication to bravery, development, and unity — but words are just the beginning.

Celtics fans will judge him not by Instagram posts but by whether he understands the soul of the club. If he does, he will be loved. If he doesn’t, he will be tolerated. At Celtic, the difference is enormous. 

In the smallest details, O’Neill demonstrated why he won hearts so quickly. Asking journalists if they wanted tea or coffee, a seemingly insignificant gesture, revealed a level of humanity that the Scottish press corps rarely experiences. It was not a public relations strategy, it was simply kindness. It was the instinct of a man who understands that respect is earned through warmth rather than authority. Journalists who had been ignored for years suddenly felt seen. This alone shifted narratives. Nancy has already faced hostility from the Scottish tabloid machine, with embarrassingly juvenile articles like the “Top 5 awkward moments” being circulated by…guess who. All because Nancy spoke to Forrest, and they were both quite quiet. Consider meeting your new boss for the first time. You want to make a positive impression. Nancy’s new challenge is to ignore the noise and focus on developing meaningful relationships with his players, supporters, and Celtic’s brand identity. 

I don’t expect Nancy’s Celtic to crush every club every weekend, but I do expect a change. What does the change look like? I’m not so sure. I know a lot of people are expecting a big revolution, but real change is usually quieter. I recently attended a conference where a psychologist who previously worked in emergency services discussed the impact on industry employees. He discovered an interesting statistic – the average person will experience 5 to 7 traumatic incidents in their lifetime. I had a similar experience every time Duffy took the pitch. But, in all seriousness, he said that emergency personnel go through 500-700 in a 20-year career. The next question is: How do you cope? The psychologist told a story about “starfish on the shore,” an old anecdote in which a man walks past thousands of stranded starfish, each slowly drying in the sun. Another man sees him pick up a starfish and throw it back into the ocean. “Why bother?” he enquired. “There are thousands of them.” You can’t save everyone. The man responds, “But I saved that one.” Celtic fans and the trust collective do not need upheaval or a thousand changes. I believe fans would be pleased with one change, and we would celebrate it as a victory. A more respectable board. A renewed connection between supporters and leaders. These small changes, such as starfish lifted from the sand, can add up to a better atmosphere – stop us from drowning. The goal is not revolution but restoration – re-establishing the bond between club and community, restoring pride, and reclaiming identity. 

Desmond should tread lightly this Christmas as three ghosts are already on their way. First, there’s the Ghost of Celtic Past – fans who remember Stein, McNeill, the Lisbon Lions, and all the stories told in kitchens, living rooms, and on supporters’ buses that shaped what this club should be. Then comes the Ghost of the Celtic Present, who exposes the board’s mistakes, the growing unrest in the stands, and the perplexing belief that a five-year plan is some bold innovation rather than the bare minimum for a club of this calibre. Finally, the Ghost of the Celtic Future appears, with Wilfried Nancy taking over a team reborn by Martin O’Neill’s spark and a fanbase clinging to hope with bruised fingertips. Desmond must confront the spectre of whether the season will be a festive revival or a darker one.