Is Anti-Racism Working Where You Live? Bills, Borders and Belonging in Scotland 2026
In this guest article for CRER, Aleisha Omeike explores the current environment in Scotland for Black and minority ethnic communities, and its implications for anti-racism.
Aleisha is a writer, primarily focusing on Black women’s experiences in education, leadership and everyday life. She is currently working with the Institute for Public Policy Research (IPPR) on a research traineeship. Her work for IPPR focuses on racial inequality and Black lives in Britain, linking lived experience with analysis of economic and social policy. She has written for organisations including Historic Environment Scotland, BBC The Social, EachOther, Elect Her and the Women’s Resource Centre.
Find Aleisha on LinkedIn: Aleisha Omeike
The everyday contradiction
It’s 8:30am and I am loitering in Shotts train station’s waiting room, killing time scrolling through reels before my train to Edinburgh – then back to London. I make this lengthy commute semi-regularly since I uprooted from Wishaw to Westminster just over a year ago. I am rather annoyed because I have lost my AirPods. Since I'm the only one here, I whack my phone up full volume and zone out while a young woman on Instagram shows me how to make “marry me chickpeas”.
I’m near nodding off when two middle‑aged men stomp in. They don’t even glance my way, they just start hollering at each other despite being only ten centimetres apart. “It’s beyond belief!” yells one. “Aye, I know how I’d deal wi’ them!” shouts the other. Then comes the usual chorus: “Millions o’ them hiv come here oan they small boats, livin’ in 5-star hotels and we cannae even pay the electric this month!”
Their words hang in the air, heavy and familiar. These comments sound like personal opinions, especially in a cost-of-living crisis. But in fact, they reflect a wider policy and media environment in which migrants and minority ethnic people are presented as a cause of pressure on services and living standards. This sees Black and minority ethnic people blamed for problems created by policy decisions while still struggling with lower pay, high housing costs and insecure work.
I stand there, a Black Scot myself in my own country, thinking about how invisible you can become in the spaces you are meant to belong in. That’s the contradiction of living in 2026, racism and anti-racism moving in opposite directions, both true at once.
What the data actually says
In 2024/25, the Crown Office and Procurator Fiscal Service recorded 6,019 hate crimes in Scotland (a 1.2% decrease from the previous year). At first glance, this suggests Scotland is slowly becoming less hostile. But falling totals can mean fewer incidents, or they can mean that many people simply don't see reporting as worth the effort, even as public awareness campaigns, guidance and changes in law have made the process more visible and accessible.
And what the data can't capture is texture. The slur overheard in a queue, the "banter" in the pub, the extra scrutiny at the GP counter. These may not be hate crimes, but they still cause harm.
Even the more alarming racist incidents rarely feel worth raising formally when you're focused on getting through the week with your overdraft already stretched. Slowly, moments like these stop registering as incidents and start registering as just the way things are.
So yes, something is shifting in the numbers. But the statistics can't explain what it's like to live in a context where everyday racism is normal enough not to make the figures at all. I've learned that myself, standing on more platforms than I can count, deciding whether what just happened is worth the energy of challenging.
Scotland’s “different story”
Scotland likes to tell itself that it’s the more humane half of the UK; pragmatic, progressive, and politely unimpressed by Westminster’s culture wars.
There is substance beneath this. Scottish Government can point to ambitious anti‑racism strategies, education programmes and laws like the new Hate Crime and Public Order Act. What’s more, voters have just re-elected the progressive government that brought these initiatives to Holyrood for another term, with SNP once again emerging as the largest party.
However, the lived reality is rougher around the edges. Black and minority ethnic Scots still face higher rates of poverty, insecure work, and homelessness. Communities keep reporting racial profiling and discrimination, even in spaces built to promise equality. CRER's work shows that structural racial inequality remains, and in some cases has deepened, with a stubborn persistence that spans decades.
The gap between Scotland’s self-image and these realities is not about intent. The difficulty lies in implementation. Policy is built for steady, incremental improvement and not rapid correction. But racial inequity functions a lot like compound interest; the longer you leave it, the bigger it grows. Anti-racism has become more visible in institutional language, while racial inequality continues to be produced through the same systems of housing, employment, education and justice.
This is why anti-racism must be made measurable across all governmental and government funded activity. That means using tools such as funding and performance frameworks to require demonstrable outcomes in employment, pay, leadership and service access.
Migration politics and the national mood
Nothing unfolds in a vacuum. Across Britian, migration and asylum policy has become more restrictive, emphasising deterrence, enforcement and “small boats”. This has implications for people seeking asylum, migrants with insecure status and minority ethnic communities more broadly.
Scotland talks about taking a different approach, but Scotland still has to work within Westminster’s migration and asylum frameworks. Local Authorities face pressures on services, housing and budgets which can limit the practical impact of a more positive rhetoric. This gap between UK-level restriction and Scottish-level reassurance creates the perfect ground for resentment. People experience scarcity locally, yet are told the system is generous.
The Scottish Parliament elections in May made this tension more visible. Campaigns in many parts of Scotland revolved around stretched services, poor housing, and "fairness," with migration cast directly or indirectly as the cause. Tougher positions on migration were a vote winner. When election results reward narratives that link migration to the impact of migration on education, health, and housing, the political climate changes for antiracism.
But the most corrosive effects show up not only in policy, but in everyday atmosphere. Phrases such as “there’s too many people coming,” “our services are full” can sound reasonable until you notice what (or who) they quietly blame. That’s exactly how the politics of division seep into daily life; not only through mandates, but through a steady drip of suspicion - the kind that fills a train station waiting room.
Tests of anti-racism in practice
If the anti-racism rhetoric that we see in Scotland is real, you shouldn't need to squint to spot it. Considering how you might see it in action where you live can be a useful way to judge whether it works:
Education: When racist bullying occurs, do adults step in, record it and act? Or do they hold another “values assembly” and call it a day?
Employment: Who gets promoted and who gets stuck on the lowest salary? The company diversity report may look colourful, but check who’s still taking notes in meetings rather than chairing them
Housing: Who is forced to live in overcrowded, temporary accommodation? When tenants complain, do they get help, or are they passed between agencies without resolution?
Public Services: At the GP surgery, who gets warmth at the counter and who gets suspicion? You can learn a lot about a country by spending some time in its waiting rooms.
Politics: When times get rough, who becomes the convenient villain of the week?
You don’t need a sociology degree to answer these questions. You just need to look closely at the patterns around you.
Racism is systemic, created and maintained through decisions made by institutions and the people within them. Anti‑racism, if it is to mean anything in 2026, has to show up in these decisions.
In the aftermath of the elections, the real test is not who forms the government, but whether you can see decisions bending towards decency and equal treatment in the places you live. It’s about whether fairness is visible in practice, even on your morning commute.