Shortly before Australia unexpectedly beat Denmark in a compelling match, a Qatari official was asked about migrant worker deaths in the lead-up to the World Cup. It was admitted that between 400 and 500 may have died working on infrastructure projects during that period. The actual figure could be far higher and may never be known. Notoriously, the Qatari authorities have not bothered to do the work necessary to come up with an exact number.
This Sunday, with a memorable France v Argentina final in prospect, those workers and their families need to be remembered too. Fifa, football’s governing body, continues to ignore calls for a dedicated compensation fund for the migrants killed or injured in Qatar. It should think again. There is still time to make some partial amends for the mistake made in 2010 when – after a deeply suspect bidding process – Fifa awarded the World Cup to a super-rich oil state with a poor human rights record and draconian anti-gay laws.
During the tournament, Fifa has responded to protests by outlawing displays of defiance such as the wearing of rainbow armbands by players. But suggesting that politics should be kept off the pitch – as Arsène Wenger, now a Fifa technical director, regrettably chose to do – makes no sense at all. It was a particularly unprincipled instance of political powerplay (and alleged corruption) which created the sporting problem in the first place. Players such as England’s captain, Harry Kane, threatened with on-field sanctions if he wore the armband, were placed in an invidious position by those who run the game.
As the weeks have passed, the football and the compelling narratives it has generated have taken centre stage. So much has been fabulous to watch. At 35, Lionel Messi has scintillated and astounded, dragging an average team to the brink of glory. He stands within touching distance of a World Cup winners’ medal to complete arguably the greatest career in football history. Romantics will be on Messi’s side on Sunday.
This was the first edition of the tournament to be held in the Middle East – in itself a hugely welcome development. It tilted football’s centre of gravity away from Europe and towards the global south in exhilarating fashion. For the first time, all five African sides competing won at least one game. The fans of Ghana, Senegal and Cameroon – along with their Argentinian and Welsh counterparts – were stars in their own right, filling stadiums and Doha’s new metro with marvellous colour and noise. And then there was Morocco. The first African and Arab team to reach a World Cup semi-final were both a revelation and a source of continental and cultural pride. The Atlas Lions were passionately backed in cafes and squares from Dakar to Gaza. The sight of the Moroccan winger Sofiane Boufal dancing with his mother on the pitch, after the team’s quarter-final victory against Portugal, moved millions.
Sportswashing is only an option because sport – and particularly football – can fire the imagination of people and nations through these kind of moments. Association with something so uplifting and unifying, so suggestive of a global community celebrating its diversity, is a good look. By spending a record $220bn, tiny Qatar sought to position itself as the best friend of the world’s favourite game. But it should not have been given the chance.
Advocates of engagement will point fairly to labour market reforms introduced as union organisations and NGOs shone a spotlight on the abuse of migrant workers. But those 400-500 admitted deaths will shadow all future reflections on this tournament. It was a great World Cup, but its drama unfolded in the wrong place. To subvert and repurpose Bill Shankly’s famous joke: football is not more important than matters of life and death.
