Will Celtic fans ever have a Glasgow derby without the hate? What would it be like?

Since the events at Ibrox last weekend I’ve thought a lot about what makes Celtic special, and it has nothing to do with the so-called best derby in the world. I sometimes find myself wondering what football in Glasgow would look like if the hatred simply disappeared.

Not the rivalry, because rivalry is the lifeblood of football. Rivalry gives matches their intensity, their drama and their meaning. But there is a poisonous edge that too often comes with this fixture.

Every time the derby comes around we already know what shadows will follow it. The bile. The aggression. The nonsense that spills far beyond the pitch.

And most of the time it comes from the same direction.

It stains what should be one of the greatest spectacles in world football.

So, I ask myself a question that probably sounds strange to many people. What if the hatred between Celtic and the Ibrox club simply did not exist? Would the derby still matter? Would it still feel like a derby at all?

For me the answer is simple.

Of course it would.

First of all, it would still be a local derby. Geography alone guarantees that. Two clubs from the same city, separated by barely a few miles, competing for supremacy in Glasgow. That alone creates tension, pride and bragging rights that can last for weeks.

Look anywhere in football and you will see the same thing. Local derbies exist everywhere without needing poison to fuel them. Manchester United and Manchester City fight for control of their city. AC Milan and Inter share one stadium yet battle fiercely for dominance. Madrid has its own rivalry that burns with intensity.

Those derbies thrive because neighbours compete.

Glasgow would be no different.

Secondly, both clubs would still be among the most successful in world football. That fact does not change whether the stands are filled with anger or simply fierce competition.

Celtic’s history is immense. The trophies, the European glory, the domestic dominance across generations. That legacy stands tall regardless of what happens across the city.

The Ibrox club claims a massive trophy haul and its supporters take enormous pride in that record, even if we rightly mock them for it.

Success alone creates rivalry. When two historically successful clubs share the same city, sparks will always fly.

Then there is the cold reality of the Scottish Premiership.

For better or worse, these two sides remain the only realistic contenders for the league title in most seasons. That competitive pressure guarantees drama. Every dropped point matters. Every derby can become a turning point in the championship race.

You do not need hatred to make those matches meaningful. The stakes already do that perfectly well.

But Glasgow’s football story has always been about more than sport.

The two clubs represent different strands of Scottish society. Different communities, different traditions that have grown over generations. That social divide has shaped the rivalry from the beginning, and it cannot simply be erased.

Acknowledging those differences does not mean they must always explode into hostility. Cultures can exist side by side without tearing each other apart.

History also plays its role.

Celtic’s origins are deeply connected to charity, immigration and the support of a struggling community. That story remains a powerful part of the club’s identity and explains why so many supporters feel such a strong emotional connection to it.

Across the city the other club emerged from a different tradition, carrying its own symbolism and sense of identity.

Those historical paths created a rivalry long before modern football turned the fixture into a global spectacle.

None of that requires hatred. In fact, sometimes I think the hatred cheapens the derby rather than strengthening it.

When violence erupts or bile pours out of the stands, the focus shifts away from the football. Instead of talking about the brilliance on the pitch, people start talking about the ugliness around it. That is what damages the image of the game.

Strip away the venom and the Glasgow derby is still extraordinary.

Two massive clubs. A city divided by football loyalties. Generations of history colliding for ninety minutes. The passion, the pressure and the pride involved in these matches are something most leagues in the world can only dream about.

Now imagine the derby without the poisonous edge that sometimes surrounds it.

Supporters would still sing loudly. They would still defend their colours. They would still live every moment of the match with the same intensity. The tension would still be there. The stakes would still be enormous and the pride of the city would still be on the line. And the players themselves would still feel it.

Any footballer who pulls on the shirt of Celtic understands what the derby means. The same is true for anyone representing the Ibrox club. The noise, the pressure and the expectation do not disappear simply because hatred is removed from the equation.

If anything, the focus might become sharper. The match would become what it should always be about. Courage. Quality. The hunger to win for your club and your supporters.

And perhaps the city itself would breathe a little easier.

Sometimes it feels as though the derby drags old ghosts along with it. Ghosts of divisions that belong to another century. Football should reflect a living city, not keep reopening the same wounds again and again.

Glasgow is a proud football city. It has given the sport legends, unforgettable nights and supporters whose passion is known all over the world.

That legacy deserves to shine for the right reasons.

The rivalry between Celtic and the Ibrox club would survive perfectly well without hatred. It would still roar. It would still matter.

And maybe, just maybe, it would finally show the world the kind of football spectacle Glasgow truly deserves.

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