London, UK – Ex-England defender and anti-racism campaigner Paul Elliott claims football has gone from open bigotry on the terraces and streets to a constant “24/7 digital onslaught.” His comments come in a moment of heightened concern about a spike in online abuse aimed at Black players, and increased awareness that social media has turned racism into a 24/7 threat.
Football’s Dark Past
Elliott, an England and many club player during the 1970s and ’80s, faced direct racism, hissing, banana-throwing, and physical intimidation in routine league and international matches. “We had to endure explicit hatred when we went away from home,” he remembers. Abuse was limited to physical places for that generation: stadium terraces, training grounds, pubs. But there was a definite end point when the match finished, the abuse largely finished as well.
Enter the Digital Arena
Cut to today, and social media is the medium for immediate, unmoderated racist attacks. What was once the safe haven of offline spaces is now digital arenas where hatred is echoed around the world, trans-time-zone. As Elliott succinctly puts it: “Today, it never stops.” Lads like Jess Carter, who recently took a break from her accounts after enduring constant racial abuse playing for the Women’s Euro 2025, are cases in point.
Carter’s tale highlights the emotional drain of dealing with constant cyber abuse. She claimed to hope that taking a break could dissuade just one sickening attack, providing a stark reminder of the great psychological burden that racial slurs and threats put on sportspeople.
The Female Footballer’s Struggle
Carter is not alone. Female gamers increasingly encounter double layers of hate: racism and sexism. High-profile female gamers, particularly gamers of color – have had torrents of identity- and performance-based hatred online. Such harassment is disproportionately directed towards women of color, sometimes even playing off dangerous stereotypes about skin, hair, or heritage.
Labour MP Matt Western has added to calls from public figures for social media platforms to act, calling for firmer action to deal with “appalling racism and misogyny” against players such as Carter.
Institutional Responses—or Lack Thereof?
Football clubs with access to players’ social media accounts, typically depend on tech giants to pick up on and delete hateful posts. But activists say that is not enough. Even with promises by Twitter (X), Instagram, and Facebook, racially abusive posts often fall through the net, while perpetrators are anonymous or go undetected.
Elliott contends that in the past, authorities such as FIFA and UEFA finally acted upon terrace racism by banning fans from stadiums and implementing stricter measures. “In contrast,” he states, “online platforms continue to treat racism as a bug in the system, and not as an emergency in society.”
Mental Health Costs
The combined impact of cyber abuse on the mental health of players is now a serious concern. Physical abuse had definite beginning and ending points, but online harassment can occur at any time—prior to, in the midst of, or even after games. Ongoing stress can affect players’ relationships, performance, and overall mental health.
Jess Carter has spoken of severe stress and shame. Paul Elliott warns of a looming crisis and laments the lack of institutional preparation: “We’re playing catch-up on a digital wound that never heals.”
Cultural and Policy Cracks
Experts identify systemic failures: youth academies fall short in providing mental health care. Clubs tend to protect disciplined players by withdrawing them from social media, but few offer formalized care. The governing and regulatory bodies of the game have not yet developed overall policies against online hate—beyond UEFA’s digital hate punishment, which many consider ineffective.
In contrast to pitch-side racism -mfines, bans from the stadium, or stopped games—hate on social media is minimized, invisible to referees and officials, and unresolved.
Why It Matters Beyond Football
Online racism doesn’t reside in sport alone. It resonates with wider societal trends—shared media, algorithmic echo chambers. The anonymity of hate encourages perpetrators and contaminates spaces.
Elliott emphasizes that the issue isn’t only today’s match but the kind of culture we leave for future generations. “If digital aggression isn’t addressed, young fans and players normalize hatred,” he cautions.
Momentum Building
Evidence backs up Elliott’s plea. An investigation of 4,600 UK public figures on Twitter revealed journalists are most likely to be the subject of abuse, emphasizing the wider trend of hate online extending into sports, politics, and media.
At the same time, the online vandalism of football players is driving a broader campaign: MPs, civil rights organizations, social media regulators, and player unions are calling for stronger action, commensurate with the extent of the issue.
Looking Forward
Elliott points to grounds for optimistic hope: governments are holding platforms accountable, and clubs and federations increasingly acknowledge their responsibility of care. But he maintains symbolic gestures—such as stadium messaging—are insufficient. “We require systems, policies, and enforcement,” he states. Without this, football may lose a generation to mental distress and toxic fandom.
But Elliott also reminds us that the terrace racism of his day delivered tangible change. He thinks the same dividend on resistance is available in the virtual world: if sport, society, and technology join forces.
