The Media And The Damage Done

In just over twenty-fours hours time, FIFA will announce which nations will be hosting both the 2018 and 2022 World Cups. If we're being brutally honest, it's not been the most drama-free of processes. England, of course, is in the running, along with Russia, Spain/Portugal and Holland/Belgium for the prize of the former.

Over the course of the bidding process, it seems like no serious campaign has escaped being at the very least brushed, and at worst tarred and feathered, by the conniving hand of scandal. We've seen the Russian team aiming cheap shots at England regarding our problems with crime and binge drinking, especially in London, for which painfully forced conciliatory letters were eventually exchanged, leading to a decidedly chilly truce. Meanwhile, Spain and Portugal's joint operation was recently censured after Spain faced a probe into allegations that they arranged (or at least attempted to arrange) a vote-trade with 2022 hopefuls Qatar, whose TV advertising campaign has been fronted by that famous son of Doha, Zinedine Zidane. Maybe he's looking to invest in Middle Eastern property.

And how could we possibly forget the whole Lord Triesman fiasco, when those renowned upholders of moral decency the Mail on Sunday recorded (supposedly off the record) remarks made by the former bid leader, in which he speculated that Spain would drop out of the running if Russia helped bribe referees at the then-upcoming 2010 World Cup finals? As a nation sighed, Triesman resigned, leaving the bid in apparent disarray.

The one common thread running through all of this sordidness is the British press, whose exposés have done as much as anything to undermine bids, both our own and others. The print media faced heavy criticism in the aftermath of Triesman, with certain raised voices claiming that one man's personal scepticisms, however poisonously laced, should have remained private. The rights and wrongs of such a viewpoint are pretty much a minefield of moral ambiguity, a description just as easily assigned to the aftermath of this week's BBC Panorama, which laid bare the “kick-back conspiracy” running to the very heart of the international game. The dubiously-scented contents of FIFA’s trashcan was picked over and examined, as were its links to International Sport and Leisure (ISL) – a Swiss-based sports marketing company repeatedly awarded the commercial rights of World Cup promotional contracts. We were treated to a revisiting of the reportedly dodgy dealings of the governing body’s hierarchy as far back as 1990, the programme and its host Andrew Jennings pinning serious bribery allegations to three top-ranking FIFA officials while casting the spotlight of corruption as far up as Jack Warner, the Dwight Yorke-loving FIFA Vice-Chairman, and a man wooed like Sarah Palin at a hunting lodge when tournament voting time comes around.

If the whole Triesman fiasco wasn’t bad enough, this broadcast could be potentially nuclear to England's bid prospects. And frankly, you have to question the logic of the outlets involved. Firstly, the newspapers. Imagine the scenario: Russia emerges triumphant from the bidding campaign but come, say, 2017 reports appear that claim they’ve fallen behind schedule in terms of construction, leading to growing fears, similar to those witnessed in the run-up to South Africa 2010 and the 2004 Athens Olympics, (and no doubt propagated by the very same papers) that the tournament may not be ready in time. You can bet your bottom dollar that the tabloids will be the first to start leaping about with their hands aloft, like a child desperate for their teacher’s thinly-spread attention, trumpeting our suitability to step in and play saviour, citing our ready-to-go stadia and post-Olympic infrastructural improvements. Very nice of them, but what a shame it may have been the very same corporations that so damaged our initial bid in the first place.

Secondly, the BBC. Ignoring the fairly blatant ratings-grab inherent in airing the programme so close to the hosting decision, perhaps the most damning criticism as far as the Beeb is concerned is that various key aspects and notable footage were lifted from several years ago, with certain portions of the show feeling like some kind of footballing corruption highlights reel. While Jennings was eager to contextualise this footage by aligning it with new evidence of bribery that has come to light in recent weeks, the show's focus eventually drifted towards a set of guarantees provided (and signed) by FIFA officials to hosting hopefuls, aiming to protect potential sponsors and assorted financial beneficiaries. If the overarching aim was to show FIFA in a bad light, they most certainly succeeded, but I can't shake the sensation that such is the derision with which FIFA is viewed that accusing them of massive-scale bribery and collusion feels not dissimilar to shooting fish in a barrel. Which is a real pity, because David Mellor's closing theory that a better outcome for England, rather than winning the bid, would be to lead the way in insisting on “the reform of FIFA,” to make them “transparent... and accountable,” was refreshingly noble.

In many ways it's easy to sympathise with the BBC, for are they not after all simply fulfilling their remit of providing important, worthy journalism? Yet they face a conundrum which Susie Dent would find taxing. Win the bid and no tangible harm will have been done: they'll have brought into sharp public focus the shadowy actions of the sport’s governing body, while their country will still reap the social and financial rewards coming their way. Lose, however, and they'll be painted as unpatriotic at best; major players in a continued national economic and footballing slump at worst. If the whole thing were a simple test of nerve, then you really would have to congratulate them.

To my mind, however, the really painful thing about all of this is that it feels like we, the supporters, are being somehow judged, which returns us neatly to the issue of morality. The sad state of affairs at the summit of the sport constantly pulls the observer almost full circle, hearing of bribes, kick-backs and collusion and meeting it with a roll of the eyes and a shrug of the shoulders, as if to say 'typical'. And then we carry on. Now, by pitting the excitement and prestige of hosting the World Cup up against the case for ethical steadfastness in the face of greed and exploitation, average Joe Shmoe is left in a horrid position. Love football? Of course. Fine, but do you hate corruption more? Well, possibly, but it's not really up to me to decide, and while we're at it, stop making me feel ashamed of wanting to watch Lionel Messi ply his trade in the flesh.

In the closing moments of Monday night's broadcast, Roland Rino Büchel, a former ISL account director, called for an “independent investigation into the FIFA books.” Quite right too. Unfortunately for England, the sad outcome may be that the editorial decisions of its country's media will be difficult to view as anything remotely approaching independent, no matter how objective FIFA claims its executive committee will remain.

Whatever conclusion you care to reach, the whole affair leaves a distinctly bitter taste in the mouth. Did the BBC make a selfless decision to take on corruption head-first, or merely fumble into an exercise in foot-shooting? The clumsy, grubby truth is that football's highest echelons appear beset with dirty dealings. This much we probably knew already. But what the media are ultimately asking us is which evil should we be viewing as the lesser: from one angle, a culture of dirt-digging and mud slinging; from the other, a nation's investigative media exposing shallow acts, but in a way (and, perhaps crucially, a precise moment) which will quite possibly be to the detriment of the country in a whole range of ways. In short: nobody wins.

~ Matt