Sol Campbell on the pitch. Photo: Getty
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Did Sol Campbell really miss out on the England captaincy because he was black?

Like Kanye West, Sol Campbell has the habit of making headline-hogging statements that allow us to evade wider and more uncomfortable questions – in this case, about institutional racism in football.

If Kanye West had played professional football, then he might have provided quotes like Sol Campbell. Campbell, who had a distinguished career for various clubs (most notably, Arsenal and Tottenham Hotspur) and his country, has contended that “if I was white, I would have been England captain for more than 10 years”. Campbell’s comments, which appear as extracts from his new biography in The Sunday Times, are damning of the Football Association, whom he describes as “institutionally racist”. He elaborates thus: “I think the FA wished I was white. I had the credibility, performance-wise, to be captain . . . I’ve asked myself many times why I wasn’t [captain]. I keep coming up with the same answer. It was the colour of my skin.”

Like Kanye West, Sol Campbell has the habit of making headline-hogging statements that allow us to evade wider and more uncomfortable questions. When Kanye, in an interview with BBC Radio One’s Zane Lowe, railed against racism in the fashion industry, his important point was lost in the familiar Kanye haze of outlandish egotism. Similarly, when Campbell remarked that racism has been and is a problem within football, he stated his case in a manner that has unfortunately made the entire issue far simpler to dismiss.

The thing about making accusations of racism, particularly those against organisations, is that it is very difficult to prove them at the best of times. Unfortunately for Campbell, who was wryly aware of the furore his remarks would attract, the facts as they stand are not strongly in his favour. He played for England for just over ten years, between 1996 and 2007, receiving 73 caps in that time; during that period, he played alongside David Beckham, Alan Shearer, Tony Adams, John Terry and Steven Gerrard, each of whom could at various times have considered themselves worthy of the captaincy. Campbell himself led England three times, more than Wayne Rooney or Frank Lampard, who have been handed the captain's armband twice each. Like Kanye, who imagines himself to be a visionary in the world of fashion, it may be that Campbell overestimates his ability as a leader in his chosen field.

But, but, but. There does still seem to be a persistent problem regarding racism within football; and that is evident from the cacophonous silence from many of Britain’s black footballers at vital moments. Let’s not forget that they felt so dismayed by their union’s handling of the issue that, as recently as October 2012, they were considering the launch of a breakaway organisation to represent their interests. It is unclear whether these preliminary discussions evolved into anything much more substantial but it is instructive that black footballers even thought them necessary. More interesting still is the secrecy in which they were conducted, as if they feared public reprisal if they voiced their grievances too openly. After all, this was 2012; a time when we should presumably be past such conversations, clandestine or otherwise. We have had black England captains; black English footballers are some of our most-loved characters and several of them may prove decisive in this season’s Premier League title race. What’s there to complain about?

Well, quite a lot, if we step back from the spectacle. As was pointed out to me on social media yesterday, it was only a handful of years before Campbell’s arrival as an international player that racism was alleged to be a factor in selection of the England team. As noted by Vivek Chaudhary in “Manager reveals England’s hidden racism”, an article that he wrote for the Guardian in 2004,

Wednesday’s lunch to mark the 10th anniversary of the football anti-racism group Kick It Out was buzzing with speculation about the identity of a former England manager who has alleged that during his tenure he was told by senior FA officials not to pick too many black players. The manager in question, whose identity is known to Digger and has a long history of closely working with some of England’s leading black players over the past 25 years, privately spoke about the incident at the lunch but refused to go public with his allegation. He claims that he was called into an office where two senior FA officials were present and they told him that his England team should be made up of predominantly white footballers. [My italics.]

It’s only a thought, but it’s worth wondering whether the only people who speak out are those who feel that they have nothing left to lose. Football is a very small world and those who consistently speak out of turn will find themselves swiftly excluded. It’s notable that this former England manager still did not feel comfortable, years after leaving his role, to say attach his name publicly to these allegations. Campbell’s claim that the FA is “institutionally racist” is not currently backed by the most compelling of evidence. However, it is a comment that has come at a particularly damaging time, following the FA’s award to Nicolas Anelka of a mere five-match ban for making the quenelle gesture. To quote the definition given in the Macpherson Report in 1999, institutional racism is:

The collective failure of an organisation to provide an appropriate and professional service to people because of their colour, culture, or ethnic origin. It can be seen or detected in processes, attitudes and behaviour which amount to discrimination through unwitting prejudice, ignorance, thoughtlessness and racist stereotyping which disadvantage minority ethnic people. [My italics.]

This is where allegations of institutional racism against the FA, and the sport of football in general, may gather some momentum. Many people may think that racism is merely the preserve of hooded men on horseback, but it’s not: it’s also something far more insidious, which is the failure to see people as suitable for positions of authority merely because of the colour of their skin. In some cases, it is a prejudice of which even those making such appointments may be unaware; but, of course, that does not make it any less detrimental to the ethnic-minority candidate in question. On this note, it was just last autumn that the FA faced implications of not only institutional racism but institutional sexism, having appointed a commission to consider the future of English football that consisted entirely of white men. As Heather Rabbatts, the FA’s first female director, objected in a letter to the commission’s chairman Greg Dyke:

By proceeding along this current path we are not only failing to reflect our national game but we are also letting down so many Black and Ethnic Minority people – players, ex-players, coaches and volunteers, who have so much to offer and are so often discouraged and disheartened by the attitudes they encounter. The FA should be leading by example not reinforcing entrenched attitudes. [My italics.]

Rabbatts’ letter, which is worth reading in full, is clearly something that she published as a last resort; which suggests that, for every Sol Campbell vaulting above the barricades in sensationalist fashion, there are very many more black people, very possibly with far more nuanced arguments than him, who are silent for fear of rocking the boat. However, looking at their under-representation in the game’s senior positions, it may well be that the boat could do with some rough seas. It is to be hoped that, lest Campbell be seen as a lone and poorly-substantiated voice of protest, they come forward to tell their stories.

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The most terrifying thing about Donald Trump's speech? What he didn't say

No politician uses official speeches to put across their most controversial ideas. But Donald Trump's are not hard to find. 

As Donald Trump took the podium on a cold Washington day to deliver his inauguration speech, the world held its breath. Viewers hunched over televisions or internet streaming services watched Trump mouth “thank you” to the camera, no doubt wondering how he could possibly live up to his deranged late-night Twitter persona. In newsrooms across America, reporters unsure when they might next get access to a president who seems to delight in denying them the right to ask questions got ready to parse his words for any clue as to what was to come. Some, deciding they couldn’t bear to watch, studiously busied themselves with other things.

But when the moment came, Trump’s speech was uncharacteristically professional – at least compared to his previous performances. The fractured, repetitive grammar that marks many of his off-the-cuff statements was missing, and so, too, were most of his most controversial policy ideas.

Trump told the crowd that his presidency would “determine the course of America, and the world, for many, many years to come” before expressing his gratefulness to President Barack Obama and Michelle Obama for their “gracious aid” during the transition. “They have been magnificent," Trump said, before leading applause of thanks from the crowd.

If this opening was innocent enough, however, it all changed in the next breath. The new president moved quickly to the “historic movement”, “the likes of which the world has never seen before”, that elected him President. Following the small-state rhetoric of his campaign, Trump promised to take power from the “establishment” and restore it to the American people. “This moment," he told them, “Is your moment. It belongs to you.”

A good deal of the speech was given over to re-iterating his nationalist positions while also making repeated references to the key issues – “Islamic terrorism” and families – that remain points of commonality within the fractured Republican GOP.

The loss of business to overseas producers was blamed for “destroying our jobs”. “Protection," Trump said, “Will lead to great strength." He promised to end what he called the “American carnage” caused by drugs and crime.

“From this day forward," Trump said, “It’s going to be only America first."

There was plenty in the speech, then, that should worry viewers, particularly if you read Trump’s promises to make America “unstoppable” so it can “win” again in light of his recent tweets about China

But it was the things Trump didn't mention that should worry us most. Trump, we know, doesn’t use official channels to communicate his most troubling ideas. From bizarre television interviews to his upsetting and offensive rallies and, of course, the infamous tweets, the new President is inclined to fling his thoughts into the world as and when he sees fit, not on the occasions when he’s required to address the nation (see, also, his anodyne acceptance speech).

It’s important to remember that Trump’s administration wins when it makes itself seem as innocent as possible. During the speech, I was reminded of my colleague Helen Lewis’ recent thoughts on the “gaslighter-in-chief”, reflecting on Trump’s lying claim that he never mocked a disabled reporter. “Now we can see," she wrote, “A false narrative being built in real time, tweet by tweet."

Saying things that are untrue isn’t the only way of lying – it is also possible to lie by omission.

There has been much discussion as to whether Trump will soften after he becomes president. All the things this speech did not mention were designed to keep us guessing about many of the President’s most controversial promises.

Trump did not mention his proposed ban on Muslims entering the US, nor the wall he insists he will erect between America and Mexico (which he maintains the latter will pay for). He maintained a polite coolness towards the former President and avoiding any discussion of alleged cuts to anti-domestic violence programs and abortion regulations. Why? Trump wanted to leave viewers unsure as to whether he actually intends to carry through on his election rhetoric.

To understand what Trump is capable of, therefore, it is best not to look to his speeches on a global stage, but to the promises he makes to his allies. So when the President’s personal website still insists he will build a wall, end catch-and-release, suspend immigration from “terror-prone regions” “where adequate screening cannot occur”; when, despite saying he understands only 3 per cent of Planned Parenthood services relate to abortion and that “millions” of women are helped by their cancer screening, he plans to defund Planned Parenthood; when the president says he will remove gun-free zones around schools “on his first day” - believe him.  

Stephanie Boland is digital assistant at the New Statesman. She tweets at @stephanieboland