Interrogating the line maker

Being a footballer isn't easy. If you're brave enough to speak out on a political issue, you'll probably be told to keep quiet – either by the governing body FIFA or by your own employers, if not by disgruntled fans. But abstaining from action can also equally backfire.

This widespread view that footballers should 'stick to football' doesn't really make much sense for lots of reasons, not least because of the sport's entanglement with politics. Sure, for many, football is a form of escapism and a chance to get some respite from the world's troubles. But for others, football isn't a matter of life or death – it's much more important than that, as the Bill Shankly (mis)quote goes. Whether we like it or not, throughout history and across the world, football has not only permeated into most aspects of our lives but it's also had global and major effects: the sport was integral to the Arab Spring, the 1976 Argentinian junta, and Franco's brutal regime to name a few.

Football's relationship with politics is a deep and complicated one, and their inseparability means that we'll often struggle to distance ourselves from big questions.

And as Qatar became the first Arab country to host a FIFA World Cup, it was no surprise that the event was wrapped up in controversy – mostly in the form of serious ethical dilemmas and pitfalls. With the opening ceremony fast approaching in November 2022, from where I (virtually) stood, it was a real challenge to get involved in any dialogue that didn't raise questions about the moral value of the world's biggest sporting event.

Some people went further than just debating the issues, announcing that they would be boycotting the World Cup, probably for the first time in their lives. Why? One of the dominating issues had been about the alleged (or in some cases proven) bribery and corruption surrounding Qatar and FIFA; but for most people it was because of the Gulf country's poor human rights record.

As well as its rejection of LGBTQ+ rights and the prohibition of same-sex sexual activities, Qatar has systematically disregarded and oppressed the rights of its migrant workers, including those involved in the construction of the stadiums and infrastructure that made the World Cup possible. And while the scale of the deaths related to the World Cup is disputed and sometimes misrepresented, the existence and abhorrent nature of these injustices isn't.

With that in mind, it feels natural that some fans would feel a duty to boycott the World Cup. The beautiful game is perhaps no longer so and is now tainted with serious human rights violations. How can you watch and participate in a spectacle that's been morally corrupted?

The problem is, like most ethical dilemmas, the situation isn't (or shouldn't be) that simple. Here's how I view boycotts.

In basic terms, criticism isn't finite, it can be internalised and it isn't absolute. What I mean by this is that you can critique as many things as you want; you don't have to voice those opinions, nor do they have to be acted upon or followed through; and you can also partly criticise one thing or an element of it, without having to be completely or fundamentally against it. Of course consistency and coherence are appreciated, but they're not requisites for being able to criticise something.

When it comes to boycotts though more questions are raised and it becomes harder to navigate the minefield of contradictions.

You're actively choosing to not participate in something and your opinion has manifested itself into an action or a form of protest. And that decision is the outcome of proactive thinking or of rationalising the issue. But are the reasons that have led to this decision unique to this situation? How far do you go with the boycott? What else do you boycott? And if you're not consistent with your boycotts, then why not?

Compared to just criticising something, boycotts bring with them a bigger obligation I think. They have bigger repercussions and they place you in a more exposed, vulnerable position. One where you're more likely to face criticism (which feels ironic).

And to me these sorts of questions are the most interesting aspect surrounding the World Cup controversy. When I see or hear someone loudly and confidently declare that they're boycotting the Qatar World Cup (usually on Twitter), my mind's immediate reaction is to question their decision. Not because they're necessarily wrong to do so, but because I'm curious to find out what else they've boycotted or are planning to boycott. Where have they chosen to draw the line?

At first, I wonder if the line is influenced by bad intentions. In recent years it seems to me like whenever politics and football intersect, the Middle East has found itself entangled. Of course that's not helped by the fact that the region is becoming increasingly involved in sports and cultural events as forms of soft power and 'sportswashing'. But it's not the sole abuser. As many people were quick to point out, Qatar is certainly not the only ethically questionable World Cup host, so what's really driving this bombardment of criticism? We similarly saw outrage when Saudi Arabia was involved in the purchase of Newcastle United. Fans were expected to boycott their club, the manager was repeatedly quizzed about his sense of morality, and calls for radical change were amplified. But these same set of standards aren't applied to other events.

But then I try to shake off my cynicism and think why is it that Qatar specifically has drawn lots of scorn and calls for boycotts. And it could be because of a number of reasons...

Firstly, it seems like that on the whole human beings are developing more progressive attitudes and are becoming increasingly alert to injustices. Compared to previous World Cups, we're at a critical point of being cognisant and vocal about human rights issues. Call me naive but this could be the beginning of a new standard, and perhaps for upcoming World Cups we'll see the same level of scrutiny for host nations.

Secondly, there's no defined science to what captures the media's and the public's obsession. Sometimes a single event will hypnotise us, that's not to say it's more worthy or unique to others – lots of conditions could have led to this moment. In Qatar's case, its issues were put under the microscope and the attention snowballed, perhaps without a single, conscious driving force behind it.

Thirdly, Qatar isn't unique in its wrongdoings but that doesn't mean we shouldn't speak out about them. Sometimes we also have to pick our battles, we can't boycott everything. The line has to be drawn somewhere.

And that last point I think is the most pertinent. We're fallible beings after all. Isn't it better to be a hypocrite who highlights or rectifies injustices, rather than a consistent one who's always silent? If the alternative to boycotting an event (and hoping this leads to change) is to plead that football and politics should be kept apart (and arguably being complicit in the injustices), then I think I know which side most people would prefer to be on.

Many of history's most influential and seemingly pious people have been proven to be hypocrites themselves, without this seeming to have affected our judgements of their actions. For example, William Wilberforce, who helped abolish the British slave trade, is believed to have played a part in slave labour. Should he have stayed quiet instead and taken a step back from being vocal about slavery, in fear of being called a hypocrite? Should he have lived a life full of controversy and vice because he already took one step in that direction?

Of course, Wilberforce could have avoided the accusations of being a hypocrite by abstaining from buying or selling slaves. And I'm aware that I'm simplifying complex issues but my point is that if you're not going to be perfectly consistent with your actions – and who is – then there are worse things than being a hypocrite. (My argument here isn't too different from critiques of whataboutism).

In this case, Wilberforce supposedly felt it necessary to be involved in the slave trade to help him reach the goal of abolition. Others may have changed their mind about an issue and 'redeemed' themselves; they're still hypocrites, but is this much different from changing your mind about an issue or possessing new values?

As I like to remind myself, the world is full of contradictions. It's not black and white. Maybe I'm being pedantic by anticipating or demanding consistency when it comes to criticisms or boycotts. Lots of people will have kept silent about injustices in the West but that shouldn't stop them from being vocal about the Qatar World Cup. Go ahead and be a hypocrite, but at least be a righteous one that's hopefully contributing to change. It's up to the individual to decide where they draw the line. And it's so happened to be that for many people, the line falls around the borders of Qatar.

In my own experiences, the line has been drawn elsewhere. I very rarely purchase items from or use the services of Amazon even though it would be incredibly convenient to do so. But the company is renown for treating their workers inexcusably poorly, so I don't want to add to their profits.

Would I have avoided Amazon if it was the only company of its ilk or if I couldn't afford slightly more expensive alternatives? Are the other companies that I engage with immune from moral corruptness? Have I sat down and consciously and rationally decided why I boycott Amazon, drawing up pros and cons? Would I have boycotted Amazon if it wasn't constantly ridiculed across (social) media?

The answer to all of the above is realistically 'no'. I have the convenience of eBay so it was a relatively easy decision to avoid Amazon, even if it's a little costlier. I didn't sit down and decide that I would stop using their services from a single day going forward, but it seemed the right thing to do as I found out more about their wrongdoings, and I didn't want to be a part of that. Of course there are other companies that are as bad or worse, and ones that I regularly use, but for a perfect combination of reasons, Amazon has become the victim of my boycott. I'm potentially being a hypocrite by focusing only on them, but that's fine with me.

To me personally, though, the Qatar World Cup isn't a direct comparison. I have little doubt that a good proportion of the negativity directed towards the host nation and the calls for boycott were driven by undertones of how many people view the Middle East and Islam. This concept of 'Orientalism', mixed with a sense of moral superiority, inevitably helps dictate where we choose to draw the line. The anger on this occasion isn't purely about the inclusion of politics within football or about the human rights abuses – it's about something else.

And I think that's what's bothered me so much about the fury around the World Cup – it's not the innateness of inconsistency within boycotts. It's not that the Qatari government isn't worthy of serious criticism. It's that for many people there's a different kind of hypocrisy – one influenced by anti-Arab sentiments – driving this boycott.

That's not to say that for many people their reasons for boycotting the World Cup aren't justified or aren't divorced from these sentiments. For them, the dilemma of boycotting persists. First and foremost, will they apply the same level of standards to the 2026 World Cup? Or is Qatar truly where they've chosen to draw the line?

Navigating this debate, if not a minefield, is almost like being in a maze. Wherever you turn, you're faced with a dead end. You think you have a palatable position or outcome but then you find that another conundrum props up. Ultimately, there seems to be a conveyor belt of never-ending questions that we have to keep asking ourselves and others, with no easy answers in sight.

Maybe then just like footballers, when it comes to speaking out on political issues, we're damned if we do and damned if we don't.

Notes

I started writing this blog in the build-up to the World Cup but then didn't touch it at any point during the tournament, so my thoughts in this blog are influenced both by heated discussions on the dawn of the event, as well as the chance to think about it after its conclusion and as the public and the media's attention duly turned to other issues.

For more elaborated discussions of my 'Orientalism' criticism in this context, you can listen to this podcast or read this article.