The shame of Britain’s universities

LSE is far from the only university to accept money from repugnant regimes.

The links between the London School of Economics and the Gaddafi regime have damaged the university. Its talented director, Sir Howard Davies, has resigned, while a pall has been cast on the judgement of his predecessor, Anthony Giddens. A university once associated with the likes of Webb, Hayek and Shaw is now associated with accepting money from a tinpot Arab dictator. And unfortunately, LSE is far from the only British university willing to accept funding from morally dubious sources.

Top British universities regularly accept multimillion-pound donations from regimes with extremely poor human rights records, such as Saudi Arabia and Iran. "Britain's best universities taking money from the world's worst governments is an established trend," says Robin Simcox, author of a 2009 report that looked into the links between British universities and governments with a poor record of human rights.

The report by Simcox, A Degree of Influence, published by the Centre for Social Cohesion, showed that over the past 30 years top British universities have accepted numerous donations of between £150,000 and £8m from organisations linked to autocratic regimes – and even the regimes themselves.

Since 1986, the University of Oxford and the Oxford Centre for Islamic Studies have accepted a combined total of more than £105m in donations from sources such as the Saudi royal family, the Malaysian government and even the Bin Laden dynasty, among others. In 1997, the Oxford Centre for Islamic Studies received £20m from the now-deceased King Fahd of Saudi Arabia.

In 2005 the university received £1.5m from the United Arab Emirates' Zayed Bin Sultan al-Nahayan Charitable and Humanitarian Foundation. Sheik Zayed's previous endeavours included establishing a think tank that, according to A Degree of Influence, published a report claiming that Zionists "were the people who killed the Jews in Europe". The University of Cambridge also received £1.2m from the Zayed foundation.

Elsewhere, the School of Oriental and African Studies (Soas) accepted a donation of £1m from King Fahd of Saudi Arabia to set up a chair of Islamic studies in 1995. Four years later, there was an outcry when the university accepted a donation of between £35,000 and £180,000 from the Iranian government. Cambridge, meanwhile, offers a studentship that is fully funded by the Iranian regime.

The reputations of Oxford, Cambridge and Soas, however, have not suffered in the past few weeks for a simple reason: unlike Libya, the morally repugnant regimes they accepted money from have yet to collapse in voilence.

LSE's reputation suffered not when it accepted the money, but when Gaddafi started massacring his own people in response to an uprising. Howard Davies knew the potential risks to the university's reputation when he accepted the money. The university was not cautious, it was greedy – and now its name lies in the gutter. A number of vice-chancellors will look at Davies, however, and think: "There but for the grace of God go I."

Saudi Arabia's abuse of human rights is well documented. If Saudi Arabia were to follow in Libya's footsteps and launch a bloody crackdown on a restless populace, Oxford and Soas would have a lot of explaining to do. The House of Saud, however, would only be exhibiting its continued contempt for human rights – a contempt that was clear when the British universities accepted the regime's money. It won't be just those in Riyadh hoping for the Arab uprising to stop short of Saudi borders.

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Rarely has it mattered so little if Manchester United won; rarely has it been so special they did

Team's Europa League victory offers chance for sorely needed celebration of a city's spirit.

Carlo Ancelotti, the Bayern Munich manager, memorably once said that football is “the most important of the least important things”, but he was only partly right. While it is absolutely the case that a bunch of people chasing around a field is insignificant, a bunch of people chasing around a field is not really what football is about.

At a football match can you set aside the strictures that govern real life and freely scream, shout and cuddle strangers. Football tracks life with such unfailing omnipresence, garnishing the mundane with regular doses of drama and suspense; football is amazing, and even when it isn’t there’s always the possibility that it’s about to be.

Football bestows primal paroxysms of intense, transcendent ecstasy, shared both with people who mean everything and people who mean nothing. Football carves out time for people it's important to see and delivers people it becomes important to see. Football is a structure with folklore, mythology, language and symbols; being part of football is being part of something big, special, and eternal. Football is the best thing in the world when things go well, and still the best thing in the world when they don’t. There is nothing remotely like it. Nothing.

Football is about community and identity, friends and family; football is about expression and abandon, laughter and song; football is about love and pride. Football is about all the beauty in the world.

And the world is a beautiful place, even though it doesn’t always seem that way – now especially. But in the horror of terror we’ve seen amazing kindness, uplifting unity and awesome dignity which is the absolute point of everything.

In Stockholm last night, 50,000 or so people gathered for a football match, trying to find a way of celebrating all of these things. Around town before the game the atmosphere was not as boisterous as usual, but in the ground the old conviction gradually returned. The PA played Bob Marley’s Three Little Birds, an Ajax staple with lyrics not entirely appropriate: there is plenty about which to worry, and for some every little thing is never going to be alright.

But somehow the sentiment felt right and the Mancunian contingent joined in with gusto, following it up with “We’ll never die,” – a song of defiance born from the ashes of the Munich air disaster and generally aired at the end of games, often when defeat is imminent. Last night it was needed from the outset, though this time its final line – “we’ll keep the red flag flying high, coz Man United will never die" – was not about a football team but a city, a spirit, and a way of life. 

Over the course of the night, every burst of song and even the minute's silence chorused with that theme: “Manchester, Manchester, Manchester”; “Manchester la la la”; “Oh Manchester is wonderful”. Sparse and simple words, layered and complex meanings.

The match itself was a curious affair. Rarely has it mattered so little whether or not United won; rarely has it been so special that they did. Manchester United do not represent or appeal to everyone in Manchester but they epitomise a similar brilliance to Manchester, brilliance which they take to the world. Brilliance like youthfulness, toughness, swagger and zest; brilliance which has been to the fore these last three days, despite it all.

Last night they drew upon their most prosaic aspects, outfighting and outrunning a willing but callow opponent to win the only trophy to have eluded them. They did not make things better, but they did bring happiness and positivity at a time when happiness and positivity needed to be brought; football is not “the most important of the least important things,” it is the least important of the most important things.

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