The storm over Suarez's handball is a simple case of double standards

Those defending and condemning the Liverpool striker cannot have it all ways.

As FA Cup third round weekends go, it was pretty dull. Even the boys on Soccer Saturday were lacking a little punch as if the packed festive programme of sitting and watching football had taken its toll. There was even a feeling of antagonism as Matt le Tissier accidentally leant into Jeff Stelling’s shot- the duo no doubt less enamoured with Chris Kamara’s affable buffoonery than they had been on December 22nd.

The sterile apathy that had grabbed five of the most combustible football watchers in the country seemed reflected everywhere. Even when lower league Brighton toppled Newcastle and non-league Macclesfield found two late goals to beat Championship topping Cardiff there was an ever increasing sense of “so what?”

Then, as has often been the case since he pitched up in English football nearly two years ago, Luis Suarez happened.

As the clock wound down on his Liverpool side’s potentially tricky trip to Mansfield on Sunday afternoon, the diminutive, divisive Uruguayan striker used his right hand to control an errant ball in the Mansfield box before gleefully finishing in the open goal it provided.

The Liverpool fans behind the incident didn’t even flinch. For them, as with all fans in their position, the idea of becoming the first top-flight side in 40 years to fall victim to an FA Cup defeat at the hands of non-league opposition was too dreadful to bear and they celebrated manically.

Mansfield would later grab a goal of their own to raise hopes of a dramatic comeback but the damage to the balance of the tie had already been done.

Liverpool fans everywhere drew a breath- fearful for the fate of their controversial talisman in the court of public opinion.

Here we had a plucky underdog, Mansfield, cruelly denied a place in sporting history by a display of outright cheating. Surely a backlash could be expected. Surely Suarez, already reviled by many for his on-field antics, would be chased out of Merseyside by an army of panelists from Sky’s Sunday Supplement?

Yet, against all odds, public opinion appears to be with, not against, the Uruguayan. The general consensus being that Suarez could do more than play to the referee’s whistle. It is not for he, or any other footballer, to call infringements upon themselves.

Perhaps this is a logical and practical conclusion, but rewind three years and the same media figures who are today urging restraint were not so forgiving.

The parallels between Sunday’s dose of injustice and another famous handball- that affected by Thierry Henry during the Republic of Ireland’s infamous World Cup play-off defeat to France are hard to ignore.

Back then, on a cold night in Paris in November 2009, with the two sides locked in extra-time, Henry used his gloved left palm to control a loose ball in the Irish penalty area before squaring for William Gallas to break a thousand emerald hearts.

Henry, rather sheepishly, came out after the game and admitted fault, however despite his remorse he was widely vilified for denying the Republic of Ireland a place in the following summer’s showpiece tournament.

In a manner completely at odds with Suarez’s treatment, pundits speculated that Henry could never return to English football and that the legacy of the former Arsenal front man had been irreparably damaged.

The BBC’s Phil McNulty, who today argued that Suarez had every right to stand by the referee’s failure to see the infringement, suggested in a series of chippy tweets that FIFA ban Henry for the duration of France’s World Cup campaign.

The BBC even ran an inflammatory and completely unnecessary live blog in the wake of Henry’s faux pas- hosting calls for a disqualification, reinstatement and replay from all and sundry. The sense of national outrage- even in the UK- was palpable.

The ensuing scandal dragged on for weeks: South African actress Charlize Theron was lauded for ‘accidentally’ calling out the Republic during a dress rehearsal for the tournament draw a month later and FIFA had to emerge to publically declare that they wouldn’t bow to public pressure and order a replay of the tie.

Back in 2013, I am yet to hear anyone suggest Liverpool offer Mansfield a second bite of the cherry.

You see, we’re all guilty of double standards when it comes to this issue. Consider this: Surely the ties of national induced will to win displayed by Henry run deeper than those of club loyalty shown by Suarez. So how did the Frenchman cop such a heavy blow?

I notice that Tony Evans at The Times is one rare figure to defend both Suarez and Henry. Evans noting that, at the end of the day, winning is the thing football fans crave most.

At the time of the Henry scandal, Evans’ anger was reserved for Mick McCarthy’s refusal to pick a full strength team when his Wolves side travelled to play Manchester United in a league game three weeks later. Evans argued that McCarthy’s failure to try and win was more damaging than Henry’s win at all costs attitude.

The stark truth is that Suarez and Henry were guilty of cheating. One has been vilified, the other almost applauded for his desire to win. Yet, who are we to decide which infringements are and are not susceptible to scorn?

Winning is paramount. Suarez simply did what he is paid to do. Referee Andre Marriner failed to do his job and Liverpool benefited. So what?

If we cannot condemn a display of blatant foul-play, can we no longer discuss diving, poor tackling or time wasting? If the referee fails to see an incident, whatever it may be, is it right or even fair that this be ignored?

Well, fair enough. Accept the deception and move on. But if winning is the sole concern when it comes to football matches and the manner of achieving it is irrelevant, surely we tread a dangerous line.

Suarez attracted much ire earlier this season when he seemed oblivious by the anger surrounding his propensity to go down easily under challenges. The 25-year-old’s message was that he was in football to win football matches- how he goes about doing so is merely detail.

Yesterday, many of those who had scoffed at his perceived cynicism as to how the game should be played endorsed his mantra, and with it went a long way to changing what it means to play fair.

Liverpool forward Luis Suarez appears to handle the ball in the lead up to his goal during the FA Cup third round football match between Mansfield Town and Liverpool. Photograph: Getty Images.

You can follow Cameron on Twitter here.

Warner Brothers
Show Hide image

Nigel Farage's love for Dunkirk shows how Brexiteers learned the wrong lessons from WWII

Film has given Britain a dangerously skewed perspective on World War II

For months now it’s been hard to avoid the publicity for what seems like an epidemic of new World War Two films for 2017. June brought us Churchill (starring Brian Cox), which concerns Operation Overlord and the allied invasion of Normandy in 1944. A month later, in July we were pushed back four years, to Dunkirk, with Christopher Nolan’s film of the evacuation of Allied troops from French soil in the summer of 1940. April had already brought Their Finest, a comedy about making a - let us not let the irony go unacknowledged -  stirring film about the evacuation of Dunkirk in the event’s more or less immediate aftermath and November will bring us Darkest Hour, some events in which will predate all three earlier films, as Gary Oldman’s Churchill struggles through the earliest days of his war premiership.

This glut is peculiar. There are no significant round anniversaries to commemorate (e.g. Dunkirk is 77 years ago, the Normandy landings 73). More, we’re meant to be in the middle of a series of commemorations of the horror and waste of the Great War of 1914-18, but that seems to have slipped away from us in the political turmoil that’s engulfed this country since 2014. Instead, it’s to the Second World War we return yet again. To modern Britain’s founding myth.

It’s a coincidence, of course, that these films should come along together, and at a seemingly odd time. They were developed separately, and films takes so long to conceive and produce that no one could have anticipated them arriving together, let alone arriving in a toxic Brexit Britain where they seem like literally the least useful things for anyone in the UK to watch right now. As works that will inevitably, whatever their own creative intentions and merits, be hi-jacked by a press and political culture that is determined to gloss its opposition to the UK’s membership of the European Union, and its appalling mishandling of the process of exit with garbled references to, the conflict the films portray.

This is an impression that is not exactly dismissed by Nigel Farage posting to twitter of an image of himself standing next to the poster for Dunkirk, along with a statement in which he encourages all young people to see the film. For what reason, we’re entitled to wonder, does he make this encouragement? Does he admire the sound design? Or the aerial photography? Or is he just a big fan of Mark Rylance and Harry Styles? Or perhaps he is, inevitably, indulging in a behaviour that some might call "nostalgic"? Of pining for the past. Except, of course, nostalgia requires an element of pain. The suffix "algia" the same as employed when referring to chronic conditions. For Farage and his ilk there is no pain in this behaviour, just the most extraordinarily banal comfort.

Farage is asking us and asking the young who voted against his chosen cause by an overwhelming majority, and who are are sickened by where he and his ilk have brought us - to share in his indulgence. To enjoy, as he does, those fatuous analogies between the UK’s isolation between Dunkirk and Pearl Harbour with its imminent failures in European politics. To see that "escaping from Europe with nothing is at least better than not escaping at all". Or to believe, once again, in a "plucky little Britain, standing up against the might of a wicked mainland European tyranny, its back against the wall".

All this, confused, indeed nonsensical, as it is, is being invoked, as surely as the anti-EU right have always invoked Churchill. This is despite his own family recognising him, as the EU itself does, as the fervent pro-European he was. Indeed, he was one of the founding fathers of the whole post-war pan-European enterprise.

What Farage and his behaviour demonstrates, yet again, is that British culture, in many ways, learned not merely the wrong lessons from the war against Hitler, but exactly the wrong lessons. It’s a lesson that found its most enduring, poisonous expression in Margaret Thatcher’s breathtaking assertion that the European Union was a "third attempt" by Germany to take over the world.

In contrast to the rush of war films in cinemas, television has recently given us glimpses into theoretical worlds where Nazism did succeed in conquering the planet, in Amazon Prime’s The Man In The High Castle and BBC One’s SS-GB. There are lessons too, in these alternative histories, proper lessons that we have collectively failed to learn from the real one. Which is that fascism or authoritarianism are not diseases to which anglophone countries are somehow miraculously immune due to [insert misunderstood historical fetish of choice].

The Man in the High Castle, particularly in its more subtle first series, goes out of its way to show Americans that their lack of experience of collaboration with Nazi occupation is a result of circumstance, even luck. Not because collaboration is a peculiarly European tendency. SS-GB also worked hard to demonstrate the helplessness of occupation, and how that leads to the sheer ordinariness of collaboration. Both show the understanding that while fascism from the outside is funny accents and funny uniforms, fascism from the inside is your neighbours informing on you and the absence of the rule of law.

That experience of occupation, of subsequent complicity, and humiliation, felt by many other other European nations, is absent in Britain. Farage’s fellow Leaver Liam Fox, without anything resembling self-awareness, asserted that "the United Kingdom is one of the few countries in the European Union that does not need to bury its 20th century history". Fox’s remark summed up, again seemingly unintentionally, the oafishness of the principle Brexiteers. A group who exemplify a culture that boils a vast and unimaginably complex conflict down to the title sequence of Dad’s Army - an animation in which a Union Flag is forced off the European continent by a trio of Nazi triangles, and after returning home bobs around defiantly. A group who, in a strange and witless inversion, have fantasised themselves into a position where they see the Britain’s membership of the European Union as the occupation the country once avoided.

This is the UK’s postponed tragedy. At a timethat European countries experienced national humiliations which fundamentally reconfigured their understandings of their place in the world, the UK got yet another excuse to shout about how much better it was than everyone else.

I’m a child of the very late Seventies. I grew up in a world where (British) boys’ comics were dominated by war stories rather than science fiction or superheroes, where literally everyone knew several people who had fought in World War Two - and almost everyone someone who could remember World War One. That war was the ever-present past. I am, as a friend who teaches history neatly phrased it "Of the last post-war generation." After me, the generations are post-post-war. They are free. The moral clarity of the war against Hitler has, in the end, been a curse on British culture - a distorting mirror in which we can always see ourselves as heroes. 

But, not, of course, all other generations. The war generation collectively (I make no claim that there were not exceptions) understood what the war was. Which meant they understood that the European Union was, and is, its antonym, not an extension of it. Unlike their children and the eldest of their grandchildren, they had real experience of the conflict, they hadn’t just grown up surrounded by films about how great Britain was during it.

The Prime Minister who, or so he thought, had secured Britain’s European destiny had also, as he related in his autobiography, seen the devastation wrought by that conflict, including by shells he himself had given the order to be fired. Like Helmut Kohl, whose worshipped, conscripted older brother died pointlessly fighting for Hitler, and Francois Mitterrand, himself captured during the fall of France, his experience was real and lived, not second hand.

This can be seen even in the voting in 2016 referendum. That the young principally voted Remain and the old voted Leave has been often noted. But if you break that over-65 vote up further, there’s a substantial flip to back towards Remain amongst the oldest voters, the survivors of the survivors of World War Two. After all, someone who is 65 today was born nearly a decade after the war ended. It was their parents’ war, not their own. A war that has been appropriated, and for purposes of which those who fought in it would, collectively, not approve.

Let’s return to Dad’s Army, after all, BBC Two does often enough. Don’t Panic! The Dad’s Army Story (2000) a cheerful history of the sitcom great written and presented by Victoria Wood contains a telling juxtaposition of interviewees. The series' surprising continued popularity is discussed and Wendy Richard (born 1943) expresses a nostalgia for the war years, and how people banded together during them. This is a sentiment which Clive Dunn (born 1920) bluntly dismisses. “Like most people I had a foul war,” he says, and disgust and horror briefly pass across his face.

It’s the difference between those who remember war, and those who only remember war films.