What goes on near Glasgow’s Christmas glow?

The trees are up. The lights are on. We’re edging ever closer.

Like every city centre at this time of year, Glasgow has attempted to morph into a picture-perfect Christmas card – all mulled wine steam, cinnamon scents, and warm lighting that masks the November rain.

The Winter Wonderland at St. Enoch Square is no exception. It’s got the stalls, the carousel, the Yorkshire pudding wraps. Families stroll through with bags, buggies, and excitable kids ready for their next sugar hit.

I love this time of year. Genuinely.

But I also know that the more magical the surface becomes, the more obvious the cracks feel.

Where the Christmas lights stop

St. Enoch is a place of two realities. One is the square – lit, lively, busy, and trying its best to be wholesome. The other sits about 20 metres behind it, around Howard Street and Maxwell Street: a completely different world.

Walk those backstreets and you’re suddenly in what feels like a Dickensian cutaway. It’s dusty, cobbled, and derelict… an architectural postcard from another time.

There’s been a huge rise in visible drug use and ASB around there lately. To the point where employers are now urging staff not to work late or walk alone at night. Some offices are guarding their front doors throughout the day.

It’s a jarring contrast…

Festive glow on one side, a stretch of increasingly dangerous streets on the other. And yet the two exist almost on top of each other.

That contrast is exactly why Operation Carex was launched. Police have been actively targeting crack cocaine and heroin dealing around the area. In one recent sweep, roughly £17,000 worth of drugs were recovered. This is happening metres from where families buy churros and take photos next to giant baubles.

Disparities don’t pause for the holidays

You can see why some local businesses have had to rethink how they operate. One employer said they’ve changed shift patterns entirely “to reduce the risks to my team.”

I find it incredibly intriguing that the city’s plonked one of its most family-friendly festive attractions right next to one of its most fragile pockets.

I’m not being a Scrooge, I promise. I love the sparkle and the joy the markets bring.

What’s strange is the layering – the way we place celebration directly on top of struggle and hope no one notices the seam. Sort of like trying to stage a nativity play on the edge of a construction site and hoping nobody glances left.

Every city has its alleyways, its blind spots, its stretches people warn each other about. Glasgow isn’t unique. But the proximity here is alarming.

There’s an affluent area and major shopping centre a stone’s throw away. Two major train stations feeding constant footfall. Thousands of people passing through every day. And right beside them, a space the police need to ‘swarm’ just to keep the worst of the issues at bay.

Glasgow Green is another example of this contradiction. I wrote the other week about the fact the fireworks display doesn’t go ahead anymore. Too risky and unpredictable. But a big ol’ Christmas market is just fine. I can see its twinkle from my window as I write this. It’s got the stalls, the rides, all the festive trimmings.

That’s sure to attract trouble too, surely? The city can curate certain parts of the season, but it can’t tidy everything away.

I’ll still go. 100%.

I’ll wander the walkways, buy something I don’t need, overpay for food, and take in the atmosphere like everyone else. I’m not above enjoying it. But I can’t walk through it without also being aware of what sits just beyond the glow.

Maybe that awareness is something we should lean into, not away from. Not in a pessimistic, ‘everything is terrible’ way – but in a realistic one.

This time of year can make us feel wrapped up, cosy, distracted. That comfort isn’t shared equally.

For some, December means all the bells and whistles of a Christmas market.

For others – the staff walking home, the police running operations like Carex, the security teams dealing with the fallout, the vulnerable people in those backstreets – December looks the same as any other month, but far chillier.

In my city, the shadows are now close enough to touch the lights. We can’t ignore them. Nor should we.