As a new season begins, Nigel Farage’s Reform UK is making a play for the affections of the nation’s football fans by launching its very own football shirt. It’s a move that has already proven popular among Reform supporters. According to Zia Yusuf, a leading figure in the party, thousands were sold on their first day of retail.

Reform’s move to exploit the cultural capital of football speaks to a wider trend in British society: the explosion of the football shirt as a cultural behemoth.

Quite simply, football shirts are everywhere. They have been incorporated into high fashion as part of the nostalgic 90s “blokecore” trend. They are used by bands such as Oasis and Fontaines DC as forms of branded merchandise. And now they are being mobilised by political movements, such as Palestinian solidarity organisation FC Palestina, to spread specific messaging.

Instead of being merely the domain of football supporters, football shirts have become cultural canvases.

Crucially, I believe football shirts are a symbolic medium that is tailor-made for Reform’s current political purposes. Ahead of the 2029 election Farage’s goal is clear. His aim is to win over and mobilise a largely working-class, provincial voting base who feel alienated by “mainstream” politics.

It appears that Reform see football as a potential weapon in this task. From its origins in the industrial cities of late Victorian England, modern football has long been a central pillar of working-class culture in Britain. In particular, it has played a potent role in binding communities around shared sentiments of local tribalism. Given that Farage’s political campaigning to date has often been based around a narrative of fighting for authentic, local community interests against out-of-touch metropolitan elites, the appeal of football in the context of Reform’s politics seems straightforward.

The efficacy of football shirts as a culturally loaded tool of communication means that Farage and Reform may feel they have found their own iteration of the Maga hat: a way for followers to embody their political allegiances with a loud, brash piece of statement clothing that also signals deep roots in the nation’s working-class culture.

But there’s a level of hypocrisy at work here. In the lead up to the Uefa Euro 2020 championship, Farage denounced the England team for taking the knee before games, imploring them to “keep politics out of football”. This was followed by another episode of public pearl clutching in 2024 when Farage decried England’s kit design for featuring a technicolour version of the England flag that bore “no relationship to St. George’s cross whatsoever”.

Now Reform has produced a shirt that both explicitly politicises football culture and features a turquoise Union Jack.

But beyond the flagrant double standards of the launch, Reform’s move into football merchandise is potentially a political miscalculation, too.

As the Labour party continues to flail, offering no resolution to the country’s gaping inequality or fixes for its failing public services, let alone a cure for the divisiveness that increasingly define contemporary Britain, it feels that the 2029 election will be won and lost in England’s football loving provinces.

Football and pride

Football’s roots in working-class culture, pride in place and patriotism means that the hard right has always seen the sport as fertile ground. In this sense, Reform’s kit launch is part of a long tradition of attempted infiltrations of the game by the hard right. Most notoriously, the National Front used terraces as recruitment grounds in the 1970s and the Football Lads Alliance attempted similar when it launched in 2017.

But here lies the problem for Reform. These attempts have largely failed. Even at the peak of the National Front’s influence in the 1970s and early 80s they only ever succeeded in establishing themselves as a fringe group on the terraces – albeit a noisy and intimidating one – and have often faced fierce and organised anti-fascist resistance.

Equally, the establishment of the Premier League in 1992 has seen professional football in the UK embrace a more cosmopolitan future. Progressive anti-racist organisations such as Kick It Out have gained significant influence. The cast of players and managers who populate elite level football is now impressively international. In short, despite its roots in local working-class communities, British football increasingly embodies many of the globalist, progressive ideals that Farage so vehemently rejects.

Even more crucially, as I have found in my own research on football supporting communities in the north-east, football culture prizes authenticity.

For the communities I work with, support of a football team is starkly different to support of a political cause. It is a form of living, breathing heritage. It is a tradition that is passed between generations of a family like an heirloom. It is a culture within which supporters constantly perform their own authenticity through a lifetime of ritual – match attendance, shirt wearing and suffering with the team through thick and thin.

The transparency of Farage’s hijacking of football culture for his own ends may therefore be his downfall. Farage’s credibility as a voice on football will simply not measure up to supporters’ lofty standards. They will be aware that he has openly declared his love of cricket over football. They will be cognisant of his lack of interest in the game other than when there’s a nationalist point to make. Above all, they will see through his cynical attempts to exploit the symbols of the football supporting culture they cherish so dearly for his own political cause.

Of course football is an everyday working-class tradition. Of course it has huge cultural salience in the provincial constituencies Farage will target to win in the 2029 election. But Reform should take heed that just because football is popular, that doesn’t mean it is inevitably populist.

This article is republished from The Conversation, a nonprofit, independent news organization bringing you facts and trustworthy analysis to help you make sense of our complex world. It was written by: Josh Bland, University of Cambridge

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Josh Bland receives funding from The Economic and Social Science Research Council.