Smile! Despite being booed, the World Cup has gone well for Dilma Rousseff so far. Photo: Getty
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Dilma Rousseff was booed but the riots haven’t started – and most people are enjoying the football

 A successful World Cup could create a mood of general contentment that might yet carry Rousseff to an election victory later this year.

It’s been a very strange World Cup so far. After all the talk of chaos and violence, of unfinished stadiums and public anger, of Fifa’s corruption allegations and incompetence, most people here seem to be talking about the football. It turns out that all you need to keep people happy is a string of entertaining games. This might not be surprising – the bread-and-circuses trick is hardly new and perhaps reached its apogee in Colombia in 1948, when the government helped fund an enormously wealthy rebel league to stave off openly declared civil war following the murder of the opposition leader Jorge Gaitán – but it is a little disappointing.

Last month’s audit into the tournament found, for instance, that transportation of prefabricated grandstands in Brasilia was supposed to cost $4,700 but the construction consortium billed the government for $1.5m. It’s estimated that as much as 30 per cent of the $900m total budget for the city’s stadium has disappeared in kickbacks. Surely that is a scandal worth protesting against, whether or not this tournament is, at this early stage, threatening to be the best from a footballing point of view since 1986?

There were demonstrations near Carrão Metro station in São Paulo on the day of the opening game but those taking an active part numbered only a few dozen. Perhaps 20 of them clashed with police, who deployed stun grenades and tear gas in what seemed a disproportionate response.

There were reports of other small-scale protests across the city and a couple of Molotov cocktails thrown near the municipal chamber but the claims that there would be as many as 10,000 people protesting on the streets seemed wildly inflated.

It was a similar story in Rio de Janeiro when it hosted its first game: lots of talk of demonstrations that amounted to nothing more than a few dozen people standing desultorily behind a banner reading “Fuck Fifa”, while at least as many journalists wandered about wondering whether anything was going to happen. There is anger but so far it has been nowhere near as concentrated as it was during the 2013 Confederations Cup in Brazil.

Smooth operators

Stadiums might not have been given the final lick of paint – and there was obvious embarrassment that 1,376 people had to change their tickets for the opening match in São Paulo because their original seats didn’t exist – but apart from gripes about the exorbitant cost and limited availability of drinking water in stadiums (with all food and drink confiscated on the way in), match days seem to have gone relatively smoothly.

The biggest threat to the tournament seems to be less street demonstrations than the threatened strike action. The São Paulo Metro was shut down for five days over a pay dispute but reopened two days before the first game. A 24-hour strike by 20 per cent of staff at Rio airport had little discernible impact.

For the love of the game

The clearest sign of discontent came at the opening game, a 3-1 win for Brazil against Croatia, when fans inside the stadium abused President Dilma Rousseff.

What happened requires a little unpacking. Most of the fans at that game were from the wealthy, white middle and upper middle class. This is a group naturally opposed to Rousseff, who draws her support largely from the working class and the impoverished north and centre of Brazil. So she is criticised both by her core supporters, who find themselves priced out of the World Cup, and by those who can afford to go to games, because they were predisposed to oppose her anyway.

Rousseff’s enthusiastic celebrations as Brazil came from behind to beat Croatia suggested she is aware that the propaganda battle for this tournament is not lost yet. When Brazil went behind, there was booing and chanting against her; when they equalised, there was mass rejoicing and fireworks in the sky over São Paulo.

At full-time, after an extremely dubious penalty to Brazil and a smart finish from Oscar had made it 3-1, there was a mood of general contentment that might yet carry Rousseff to an election victory later this year.

Conspiracy theories

The most troubling aspect of the tournament so far was that penalty, awarded by the Japanese referee Yuichi Nishimura for a nothing challenge by the Croatia centre-back Dejan Lovren on the Brazil forward Fred. Taken alone, it might be seen as an understandable error but that call was one of a number that went the way of the host nation – most significantly Nishimura’s decision to show the Brazil forward Neymar only a yellow card for planting a forearm into the windpipe of Luka Modric. The Croatia coach, Niko Kovac, whose demeanour is usually one of wry detachment, was understandably seething afterwards, describing the penalty as “ridiculous” and Nishimura as “completely out of his depth”.

Kovac felt that, at the very least, the pressure of the situation had got to the referee: “If we continue in this way we will have a circus,” he said. “I am not the sort of person to blame referees but we are the first to play Brazil so I have to say it: things have to improve.”

The subtext was clear: given the number of interests for which a Brazilian victory would be desirable, from Rousseff to Nike, and the potential threat to public order if they fail, it’s just about possible to believe in a conspiracy to favour them. Then again, after such a high-profile decision going their way in the opening game and with Kovac making his case so eloquently, there will be tremendous psychological pressure on referees and administrators not to be seen as soft on Brazil. l

Jonathan Wilson is the author of “Inverting the Pyramid: a History of Football Tactics” (Orion, £8.99) and the editor of the Blizzard, a quarterly journal of football writing. He will be writing weekly from Brazil during the World Cup

This article first appeared in the 18 June 2014 issue of the New Statesman, Islam tears itself apart

Picture: ANDRÉ CARRILHO
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Leader: Boris Johnson, a liar and a charlatan

The Foreign Secretary demeans a great office of state with his carelessness and posturing. 

Boris Johnson is a liar, a charlatan and a narcissist. In 1988, when he was a reporter at the Times, he fabricated a quotation from his godfather, an eminent historian, which duly appeared in a news story on the front page. He was sacked. (We might pause here to acknowledge the advantage to a young journalist of having a godfather whose opinions were deemed worthy of appearing in a national newspaper.) Three decades later, his character has not improved.

On 17 September, Mr Johnson wrote a lengthy, hyperbolic article for the Daily Telegraph laying out his “vision” for Brexit – in terms calculated to provoke and undermine the Prime Minister (who was scheduled to give a speech on Brexit in Florence, Italy, as we went to press). Extracts of his “article”, which reads more like a speech, appeared while a terror suspect was on the loose and the country’s threat level was at “critical”, leading the Scottish Conservative leader, Ruth Davidson, to remark: “On the day of a terror attack where Britons were maimed, just hours after the threat level is raised, our only thoughts should be on service.”

Three other facets of this story are noteworthy. First, the article was published alongside other pieces echoing and praising its conclusions, indicating that the Telegraph is now operating as a subsidiary of the Johnson for PM campaign. Second, Theresa May did not respond by immediately sacking her disloyal Foreign Secretary – a measure of how much the botched election campaign has weakened her authority. Finally, it is remarkable that Mr Johnson’s article repeated the most egregious – and most effective – lie of the EU referendum campaign. “Once we have settled our accounts, we will take back control of roughly £350m per week,” the Foreign Secretary claimed. “It would be a fine thing, as many of us have pointed out, if a lot of that money went on the NHS.”

This was the promise of Brexit laid out by the official Vote Leave team: we send £350m to Brussels, and after leaving the EU, that money can be spent on public services. Yet the £350m figure includes the rebate secured by Margaret Thatcher – so just under a third of the sum never leaves the country. Also, any plausible deal will involve paying significant amounts to the EU budget in return for continued participation in science and security agreements. To continue to invoke this figure is shameless. That is not a partisan sentiment: the head of the UK Statistics Authority, Sir David Norgrove, denounced Mr Johnson’s “clear misuse of official statistics”.

In the days that followed, the chief strategist of Vote Leave, Dominic Cummings – who, as Simon Heffer writes in this week's New Statesman, is widely suspected of involvement in Mr Johnson’s article – added his voice. Brexit was a “shambles” so far, he claimed, because of the ineptitude of the civil service and the government’s decision to invoke Article 50 before outlining its own detailed demands.

There is a fine Yiddish word to describe this – chutzpah. Mr Johnson, like all the other senior members of Vote Leave in parliament, voted to trigger Article 50 in March. If he and his allies had concerns about this process, the time to speak up was then.

It has been clear for some time that Mr Johnson has no ideological attachment to Brexit. (During the referendum campaign, he wrote articles arguing both the Leave and Remain case, before deciding which one to publish – in the Telegraph, naturally.) However, every day brings fresh evidence that he and his allies are not interested in the tough, detailed negotiations required for such an epic undertaking. They will brush aside any concerns about our readiness for such a huge challenge by insisting that Brexit would be a success if only they were in charge of it.

This is unlikely. Constant reports emerge of how lightly Mr Johnson treats his current role. At a summit aiming to tackle the grotesque humanitarian crisis in Yemen, he is said to have astounded diplomats by joking: “With friends like these, who needs Yemenis?” The Foreign Secretary demeans a great office of state with his carelessness and posturing. By extension, he demeans our politics. 

This article first appeared in the 21 September 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The revenge of the left