J Lo joins Beyonce and Maria Carey in lineup of dictator divas

They've all sung to some of the world's most unpleasant dictators.

A report by the Human Rights Foundation has estimated that Jennifer Lopez has earned £6.6 m singing for some of the world's most unpleasant dictators and crooked industrialists — including at Turkmenistan's Gurbanguly Berdymukhamedov's birthday party (try saying that after a couple of toasts in his honour) last month. 

J Lo's publicist later said that she would have never performed had she realised there were "human rights issues of any kind" — which strikes me as rather unlikely. Even if the star herself was too busy shopping for her latest diamante leotard, surely someone in her famously sizeable entourage would have time to flick through Human Rights Watch's reporting on Turkmenistan which describes it.

She's not the only pop diva happy to play for thugs, dictators and criminals for cash, however. Beyonce famously earned $1 m playing for Gaddafi's son Mutassim (which she later said she donated to Haiti). Mariah Carey also accepted money from Libya's ruling family as did, moving on to pop stars more generally, Usher, Nelly Furtardo, Lionel Ritchie and 50 Cent.

I don't buy the often used argument that music stars didn't realise that their presidential patrons abused human rights. Nor do I think that donating these earnings to charity after a public backlash makes everything OK again.

Sting's defiant response to his £1- £2m pay cheque from the Uzbek president's daughter Gulnara Karimova — he argued that he didn't believe in cultural boycotts as they only make closed regimes more insular — was self-serving and arrogant. The people who benefited from Sting's generous cultural exchange were the elite guests of the presidents daughter. Does he imagine they will be so inspired by 'Fields of Gold' that they will spontaneously lift controls on homegrown artists and journalists? 

Given these pop star payrolls, stunts like biting the head off a bat don't seem so bad after all — except that Black Sabbath (including bat-eating Ozzy Osbourne) performed for South Africa's apartheid regime, too.

This piece first appeared on Spears Magazine

Photograph: Getty Images

Sophie McBain is a freelance writer based in Cairo. She was previously an assistant editor at the New Statesman.

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Let's face it: supporting Spurs is basically a form of charity

Now, for my biggest donation yet . . .

I gazed in awe at the new stadium, the future home of Spurs, wondering where my treasures will go. It is going to be one of the architectural wonders of the modern world (football stadia division), yet at the same time it seems ancient, archaic, a Roman ruin, very much like an amphitheatre I once saw in Croatia. It’s at the stage in a new construction when you can see all the bones and none of the flesh, with huge tiers soaring up into the sky. You can’t tell if it’s going or coming, a past perfect ruin or a perfect future model.

It has been so annoying at White Hart Lane this past year or so, having to walk round walkways and under awnings and dodge fences and hoardings, losing all sense of direction. Millions of pounds were being poured into what appeared to be a hole in the ground. The new stadium will replace part of one end of the present one, which was built in 1898. It has been hard not to be unaware of what’s going on, continually asking ourselves, as we take our seats: did the earth move for you?

Now, at long last, you can see what will be there, when it emerges from the scaffolding in another year. Awesome, of course. And, har, har, it will hold more people than Arsenal’s new home by 1,000 (61,000, as opposed to the puny Emirates, with only 60,000). At each home game, I am thinking about the future, wondering how my treasures will fare: will they be happy there?

No, I don’t mean Harry Kane, Danny Rose and Kyle Walker – local as well as national treasures. Not many Prem teams these days can boast quite as many English persons in their ranks. I mean my treasures, stuff wot I have been collecting these past 50 years.

About ten years ago, I went to a shareholders’ meeting at White Hart Lane when the embryonic plans for the new stadium were being announced. I stood up when questions were called for and asked the chairman, Daniel Levy, about having a museum in the new stadium. I told him that Man United had made £1m the previous year from their museum. Surely Spurs should make room for one in the brave new mega-stadium – to show off our long and proud history, delight the fans and all those interested in football history and make a few bob.

He mumbled something – fluent enough, as he did go to Cambridge – but gave nothing away, like the PM caught at Prime Minister’s Questions with an unexpected question.

But now it is going to happen. The people who are designing the museum are coming from Manchester to look at my treasures. They asked for a list but I said, “No chance.” I must have 2,000 items of Spurs memorabilia. I could be dead by the time I finish listing them. They’ll have to see them, in the flesh, and then they’ll be free to take away whatever they might consider worth having in the new museum.

I’m awfully kind that way, partly because I have always looked on supporting Spurs as a form of charity. You don’t expect any reward. Nor could you expect a great deal of pleasure, these past few decades, and certainly not the other day at Liverpool when they were shite. But you do want to help them, poor things.

I have been downsizing since my wife died, and since we sold our Loweswater house, and I’m now clearing out some of my treasures. I’ve donated a very rare Wordsworth book to Dove Cottage, five letters from Beatrix Potter to the Armitt Library in Ambleside, and handwritten Beatles lyrics to the British Library. If Beckham and I don’t get a knighthood in the next honours list, I will be spitting.

My Spurs stuff includes programmes going back to 1910, plus recent stuff like the Opus book, that monster publication, about the size of a black cab. Limited editions cost £8,000 a copy in 2007. I got mine free, as I did the introduction and loaned them photographs. I will be glad to get rid of it. It’s blocking the light in my room.

Perhaps, depending on what they want, and they might take nothing, I will ask for a small pourboire in return. Two free tickets in the new stadium. For life. Or longer . . . 

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 16 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times