Sanjoy Sen is a chemical engineer. He contested Alyn & Deeside in the 2019 general election.
My track record in football punditry is not a great one. In all the years that I held a season ticket at Aberdeen, I never once successfully predicted a Dons scoreline. And back in the 1980s, my schoolboy self tipped Tottenham for the league title. That’s still to come true. No surprise, therefore, that I once dismissed tiny Qatar’s bid to host the World Cup as pure fantasy.
In fairness, no-one really saw that one coming. But the extent of corruption later exposed at FIFA went well beyond the suspicions many harboured. As did its determination to see through a controversial tournament said to have claimed thousands of lives in the construction of multi-billion dollar infrastructure.
Whilst we can still hope for a great tournament on the pitch, it’s perhaps worth reflecting on our relationship with Qatar – and the wider ramifications of the World Cup.
Are our politicians on the ball?
With our North Sea output in terminal decline and a generational failure to invest in alternatives, our energy security is more precarious than ever. We are becoming increasingly import dependent, especially on Qatar’s vast gas reserves, the world’s third largest.
In 2021, it supplied almost 10 per cent of our gas imports, a proportion set to increase if we pen long-term “supplier of last resort” deals. Little wonder that ministers aren’t saying too much about the World Cup. Rather, it’s the Qataris who’ve been criticising us, citing our rapid shift to net zero and lack of investment in domestic oil and gas.
Here in the UK, whilst the blue team is carefully sticking to its tactics, the reds are scoring own goals. No sooner does Keir Starmer decide not to attend than Mark Drakeford announces that he’ll be representing Wales to personally “shine a light” on Qatar’s human rights record. (Except the Iran fixture which he’s boycotting due to their recent crackdowns.)
Meanwhile, Gary Neville has dented his left-wing credentials by signing up for a Qatari broadcaster. And no-one seems to have explained to Ed Miliband that ratcheting up North Sea taxes just increases demand for energy-intensive, liquefied natural gas imports.
So an easy home win for the hosts?
Qatar wouldn’t be the first undemocratic regime to regret hosting the World Cup. Having presided over stage-managed triumphs, despots in Italy (1934) and Argentina (1978) over-reached themselves militarily and were promptly overthrown. Recent revious hosts Russia (2018) might yet follow a similar path.
For Qatar, internal issues could prove the main threat. Since being awarded the tournament in 2010, attitudes in the region have shifted rapidly. From the Arab Spring to the current Iran protests, the Middle Eastern public are increasingly emboldened in their demands for change. And the 2012 Bahrain Formula One Grand Prix demonstrated how a sporting event can offer a global spotlight.
In response, Gulf States have invested heavily in big-name football clubs, including Qatar’s takeover of Paris St Germain. But “sport washing” isn’t cutting it. Instead, the world is taking a growing interest in migrant worker conditions and LGBT rights. Thousands of smartphone-wielding fans might yet prove a catalyst for change.
Perhaps Qatar offers one useful lesson, though. Previous World Cups have left a trail of over-sized, unloved arenas from Seoul to Johannesburg to Brasilia. And whilst Qatar will soon add to the white elephant herd, their 40,000-capacity Stadium 974 could provide a valuable example for future hosts. Constructed from re-used material (including shipping containers), it will be dismantled post-tournament and be available for re-use abroad.
Can the World Cup fix the world’s problems?
Recent hosts, Russia and Qatar, have been controversial. And historically, the tournament bounced between football’s two hotbeds, Europe and Latin America. But there was an intervening period when things looked more hopeful. USA 94 was FIFA’s (partly successful) attempt to get America into soccer. And in 2002, it got Japan and Korea, those historic foes, collaborating on the first jointly-hosted tournament. Soon after, the developing world got its first World Cup in South Africa (2010).
There’s an opportunity for FIFA could get back there. Next time round, the World Cup will expand from 32 nations to 48 – in the interests of widening participation, not commercial gain, of course. The USA, Canada and Mexico have bagged 2026 and some fascinating alliances are emerging amongst the potential 2030 bidders.
Some are geographically logical: Argentina-Paraguay-Uruguay and Australia-New Zealand. Others have a human factor: Spain-Portugal recently brought Ukraine on board. Chasing support across three FIFA confederations, the Saudis are bidding with Egypt and Greece.
But most intriguing would be an Abraham Accord bid, possibly Israel-Bahrain-UAE. It would be fanciful to pretend football could bring lasting peace to the Middle East but a pan-Arabian tournament might have done more good this time round than handing the whole thing over a single host.
“Let’s keep politics out of sport” (or at least the politicians)
The modern football fan is swamped with annual club tournaments that seem to fill TV schedules all year round. And both our FA Premier League and the UEFA European Champions League are nowadays rich in top quality, global talent. So, let’s be honest, when the World Cup rolls around every four years, it’s political intrigue that’s now its USP.
The tournament has a rich history of controversy, having sparked wars and created a raft of fconspiracy theories. It’s also re-kindled former hostilities (mostly Germany) and seen some blatant collusion (again, Germany). This time round, the USA and Iran have been drawn togeher in a re-run of the France 98 classic. But those guys have less than a century of mutual distrust and animosity to call on. That’s nothing compared to the other pairing in group B: Wales vs. England. France’s clash with Tunisia is another potential flashpoint.
Sadly, England’s hosting record is almost as disappointing as the Three Lions’ trophy haul. Since the 1966, the only major events to reach these shores were Euro 96, plus a share of the Covid-delayed Euro 2020.
And little wonder. Despite strong FIFA hints that 2006 was earmarked for Africa, Labour and the Football Association reneged on a deal with Germany and bid out of turn. England were humiliatingly eliminated with just two votes and created long-running resentment. The 2018 bid suffered a similar fate and the UK-Ireland 2030 bid has already been pulled, instead focussing on the lower stakes Euro 2028.
Wherever the World Cup circus goes next, it won’t be coming home any time soon.
Sanjoy Sen is a chemical engineer. He contested Alyn & Deeside in the 2019 general election.
My track record in football punditry is not a great one. In all the years that I held a season ticket at Aberdeen, I never once successfully predicted a Dons scoreline. And back in the 1980s, my schoolboy self tipped Tottenham for the league title. That’s still to come true. No surprise, therefore, that I once dismissed tiny Qatar’s bid to host the World Cup as pure fantasy.
In fairness, no-one really saw that one coming. But the extent of corruption later exposed at FIFA went well beyond the suspicions many harboured. As did its determination to see through a controversial tournament said to have claimed thousands of lives in the construction of multi-billion dollar infrastructure.
Whilst we can still hope for a great tournament on the pitch, it’s perhaps worth reflecting on our relationship with Qatar – and the wider ramifications of the World Cup.
Are our politicians on the ball?
With our North Sea output in terminal decline and a generational failure to invest in alternatives, our energy security is more precarious than ever. We are becoming increasingly import dependent, especially on Qatar’s vast gas reserves, the world’s third largest.
In 2021, it supplied almost 10 per cent of our gas imports, a proportion set to increase if we pen long-term “supplier of last resort” deals. Little wonder that ministers aren’t saying too much about the World Cup. Rather, it’s the Qataris who’ve been criticising us, citing our rapid shift to net zero and lack of investment in domestic oil and gas.
Here in the UK, whilst the blue team is carefully sticking to its tactics, the reds are scoring own goals. No sooner does Keir Starmer decide not to attend than Mark Drakeford announces that he’ll be representing Wales to personally “shine a light” on Qatar’s human rights record. (Except the Iran fixture which he’s boycotting due to their recent crackdowns.)
Meanwhile, Gary Neville has dented his left-wing credentials by signing up for a Qatari broadcaster. And no-one seems to have explained to Ed Miliband that ratcheting up North Sea taxes just increases demand for energy-intensive, liquefied natural gas imports.
So an easy home win for the hosts?
Qatar wouldn’t be the first undemocratic regime to regret hosting the World Cup. Having presided over stage-managed triumphs, despots in Italy (1934) and Argentina (1978) over-reached themselves militarily and were promptly overthrown. Recent revious hosts Russia (2018) might yet follow a similar path.
For Qatar, internal issues could prove the main threat. Since being awarded the tournament in 2010, attitudes in the region have shifted rapidly. From the Arab Spring to the current Iran protests, the Middle Eastern public are increasingly emboldened in their demands for change. And the 2012 Bahrain Formula One Grand Prix demonstrated how a sporting event can offer a global spotlight.
In response, Gulf States have invested heavily in big-name football clubs, including Qatar’s takeover of Paris St Germain. But “sport washing” isn’t cutting it. Instead, the world is taking a growing interest in migrant worker conditions and LGBT rights. Thousands of smartphone-wielding fans might yet prove a catalyst for change.
Perhaps Qatar offers one useful lesson, though. Previous World Cups have left a trail of over-sized, unloved arenas from Seoul to Johannesburg to Brasilia. And whilst Qatar will soon add to the white elephant herd, their 40,000-capacity Stadium 974 could provide a valuable example for future hosts. Constructed from re-used material (including shipping containers), it will be dismantled post-tournament and be available for re-use abroad.
Can the World Cup fix the world’s problems?
Recent hosts, Russia and Qatar, have been controversial. And historically, the tournament bounced between football’s two hotbeds, Europe and Latin America. But there was an intervening period when things looked more hopeful. USA 94 was FIFA’s (partly successful) attempt to get America into soccer. And in 2002, it got Japan and Korea, those historic foes, collaborating on the first jointly-hosted tournament. Soon after, the developing world got its first World Cup in South Africa (2010).
There’s an opportunity for FIFA could get back there. Next time round, the World Cup will expand from 32 nations to 48 – in the interests of widening participation, not commercial gain, of course. The USA, Canada and Mexico have bagged 2026 and some fascinating alliances are emerging amongst the potential 2030 bidders.
Some are geographically logical: Argentina-Paraguay-Uruguay and Australia-New Zealand. Others have a human factor: Spain-Portugal recently brought Ukraine on board. Chasing support across three FIFA confederations, the Saudis are bidding with Egypt and Greece.
But most intriguing would be an Abraham Accord bid, possibly Israel-Bahrain-UAE. It would be fanciful to pretend football could bring lasting peace to the Middle East but a pan-Arabian tournament might have done more good this time round than handing the whole thing over a single host.
“Let’s keep politics out of sport” (or at least the politicians)
The modern football fan is swamped with annual club tournaments that seem to fill TV schedules all year round. And both our FA Premier League and the UEFA European Champions League are nowadays rich in top quality, global talent. So, let’s be honest, when the World Cup rolls around every four years, it’s political intrigue that’s now its USP.
The tournament has a rich history of controversy, having sparked wars and created a raft of fconspiracy theories. It’s also re-kindled former hostilities (mostly Germany) and seen some blatant collusion (again, Germany). This time round, the USA and Iran have been drawn togeher in a re-run of the France 98 classic. But those guys have less than a century of mutual distrust and animosity to call on. That’s nothing compared to the other pairing in group B: Wales vs. England. France’s clash with Tunisia is another potential flashpoint.
Sadly, England’s hosting record is almost as disappointing as the Three Lions’ trophy haul. Since the 1966, the only major events to reach these shores were Euro 96, plus a share of the Covid-delayed Euro 2020.
And little wonder. Despite strong FIFA hints that 2006 was earmarked for Africa, Labour and the Football Association reneged on a deal with Germany and bid out of turn. England were humiliatingly eliminated with just two votes and created long-running resentment. The 2018 bid suffered a similar fate and the UK-Ireland 2030 bid has already been pulled, instead focussing on the lower stakes Euro 2028.
Wherever the World Cup circus goes next, it won’t be coming home any time soon.