By Roemer Lips
Friday afternoon. I was itching to get out of my political science lecture. The subject was Clifford Geertz, a central figure in the understanding of anthropology as an interpretive science, who argued that analysis of culture should be focused on meaning, not law. As thrilling as this may sound – especially when explained in French – I was having difficulty concentrating. Red Star was on my mind.
When one thinks of football in France, Paris might not be the first city that springs to mind. Marseille has the European pedigree, and the fervent support that strikes fear and wonder in equal measure. Lyon had the seven consecutive titles in the naughties, with a cult classic team of Juninho, Malouda, Ben Arfa and Benzema. Fans of a certain vintage may even remember the flair of Saint-Etienne in the 1970s and 80s, with mavericks such as Platini, Rocheteau and Rep. Of course, the humongous, Qatari-backed elephant in the room is Paris Saint-Germain, undoubtedly France’s most popular club. However, it reeks of inauthenticity, from its spontaneous 1970 birth to its limitless financial power, which actually makes one wonder how they don’t win the league every single year, or how European success still evades them. Supporting a football club is all about a sense of belonging; a fan should feel recognised as a valuable part of the collective, not just as a customer. A club with the riches of PSG can afford to completely disregard its fanbase, and even well-intended efforts to forge a proper culture come across as disingenuous. The opposite can be said of Red Star FC, who’s supporter culture is one of the richest in world football.
From its foundation in 1897, Red Star was destined to be a left-wing, antifascist club. While its name supposedly derives from a cross-channel ferry service, its connotations with the political leanings of the club’s fanbase are unavoidable. Whether this political stance was somehow inspired by the revolutionary potential of the club’s name is unclear, however the two complement each other perfectly.
Having fulfilled my academic commitments, I met with a similarly football fascinated friend and we boarded the metro, hurtling towards Saint-Ouen, just north of the city. At the bar L’Olympic just opposite the stadium, supporters spilled onto the street, beer in one hand and cigarette in the other. Go to any pub next to an English football ground before kick-off and the place would be a chaotic mess of half-drunk fans singing. The Red Star supporters hardly made any noise at all, quietly chatting amongst themselves. The majority were only identifiable by the green and white scarves draped elegantly around their necks. It became clear to me that this was the club of choice for the moustachioed, bicycle-riding, painter jacket-wearing Parisian, of which there is no shortage. Reducing the fanbase to this, however, would be a mistake. The importance of Red Star to its local community is immediately clear when you walk around Saint-Ouen. Children wear replica shirts, and the walls of kebab shops are lined with green and white scarves. Not a PSG logo in sight; a proper community club.
Soon, darkness descended and the Stade Bauer’s floodlights began to glow. There was a football match to be played. We finished our beers, filed into the ground, bought another pint (the opportunity to have a beer in the stands was too appealing for two English football fans), and assumed our seats right next to the standing section full of ultras. The stadium is currently under construction, and therefore only consists of two stands, one along a sideline and another behind one of the goals. It creates a feeling of openness, as the ultras’ drumbeats roll over the low-rise industrial buildings and into the night, carrying with them the fans’ fervour for social change.
The opponent that night was Caen, who brought with them no more than 200 fans, tucked away into the corner of the stand behind the goal. Waving their Normandy flags, they fervently supported their players, likely relishing the opportunity to get one over the Parisians. To put it bluntly, the standard of football, even considering that this was a second division match, was subpar. Simple passes were repeatedly misplaced by both sides and neither team played with any real intensity. Red Star were especially lacklustre and conceded two before half-time. The groans from the main stand at each goal were palpable; one got the sense of a familiar story unfolding before the fans’ eyes. The second half, however, was wildly different. Red Star took to the field with a renewed sense of urgency, and quickly scored two of their own, including an outrageous lob from the centre forward with his back to goal. Both goals were treated with an explosion of joy from the main stand – a level of passion that I had not seen from most Red Star fans up to that point. Considering the club’s countercultural tendencies, one would be forgiven for expecting many fans to be muted in their support, almost too cool to care about the club’s on pitch results. Red Star, though, belongs to the combatant revolutionary foot soldier and not the high-brow political thinker. The fighting spirit of the club lives in every supporter and is unleashed when Red Star scores. While it is true that the club stands for more than just football, this absolutely does not mean that the football doesn’t matter. The football matters as much, if not more, because it represents a set of values that the fans deeply care about.
Alongside its political reputation, Red Star is a cool club. Recent collaborations with VICE and Highsnobiety will tell you that. Their Instagram feed is aesthetically more pleasing than most, while their website is clean and modern. However, the problem with being cool is that the moment too many people start recognising that you are cool you risk losing the very thing that made you cool in the first place. Red Star’s countercultural standing, its simplistic, bold logo, and its location were what made it – for lack of a better word – cool. It is the perfect club for fans blinded by the increasingly bright lights of PSG. I consider myself among this group. Football, though, is business, and Red Star need to be careful to avoid selling out. Replica shirts are currently priced at eighty-five euros, which is a concerning omen. More worrying is the club’s ownership, which since 2022 has been the American investment firm 777 Partners. As you’d expect, Red Star fans were initially sceptical of this, and unfortunately they were right to be, as 777 recently found itself in a major fraud case and is in the process of selling all its football clubs. The future of Red Star therefore hangs in the balance. Of course, the fans still make their views clear with songs and banners; there is however a serious danger of a disconnect emerging between the club and its supporters, as is the general trend across the football world. Red Star’s soul, though, will remain with the fans, and no amount of American money can rob them of that. For now, at least, it still has that old-school community spirit that makes the matchday experience so unique.
The analysis of culture should be interpretative, focused on meaning. Culture in a footballing context is a product of history and myth, which informs the songs supporters sing, the colours they wear and the heroes they invoke. It hangs in the atmosphere, away from the pitch and the directors’ box and is much easier felt than explained. Red Star then is full of culture, full of meaning to its supporters. By committing yourself to the club, you are partaking in a history of left-wing, anti-establishment struggle going back to 1896. Other clubs try to replicate that level of romanticism, Red Star just has it. Indeed, I felt spellbound when on the metro home, with my newly bought scarf around my neck. Football has the magical ability to capture you, and in the Stade Bauer this magic is ubiquitous. Whatever the future holds, Red Star has a fan for life.