Qatar You Serious?!

I recently read an article on a satirical news site that declared ISIS had been selected to host the 2026 World Cup. “At FIFA we believe that football is a truly global game” read the imagined Sepp Blatter quote. The most striking thing about the article is how worryingly plausible it all is. Remember FIFA's admission that, when organising a tournament, democracy is a hindrance.

Back to reality, around this time four years ago, football fans everywhere waited to find out whether FIFA would look to North America, Asia or Australasia for hosts of the 2022 World Cup. There was that other option, the Middle East, but it was widely regarded a token candidate.

Immediately following Sepp Blatter's ceremonious envelope-opening the football world collectively paused - stunned and open-mouthed - before texting mates to condemn dear old Sepp in such a manic rush that one such message I received referred to him as a - presumably auto-corrected - corrupt blunt.

The most hated man in football.

Personally, not only was I disappointed - having hoped for an Aussie World Cup - I was curious. So much so that, on my way to South Africa to make a film about yet another FIFA-inspired scandal (namely, the building of Cape Town Stadium) I stopped over in Qatar with the intention of making an entirely separate film about their football culture.

It didn't materialise for two reasons: One, I was refused permission (bringing a camera into the country was fine, but if I pressed record I could be in serious trouble) and two, there was the somewhat debilitating issue of there not being a football culture. Subsequently, I found myself with the best part of a week in Doha, the capital - and pretty much only - city, with not an awful lot to do.

Seeking cultural immersion I couchsurfed with a local lad who was so trusting he left me a set of keys to his apartment before he'd even met me. I repaid his trust by accidentally traipsing all over his prayer mat with my shoes on: an act that was met with a horrified gasp followed by an awkwardly prolonged series of tuts. Suitably guilt-ridden I offered to buy him dinner that night, but he politely refused insisting that, as his guest, I shouldn’t have to spend a single riyal for the entire duration of my stay.

Doha, Qatar

Despite Prayer Mat Gate we got on well and it was a joy to be on the receiving end of this genuinely warm Islamic hospitality. However, as it happened, this generosity was just about the only thing in Qatar I did warm to. I left knowing I'd probably never return and feeling all the more disgruntled with FIFA. As someone who travels to major tournaments often I felt like they'd taken a World Cup away from me. More broadly speaking: I felt like they'd taken it away from the fans.

There are a range of reasons why Qatar is a terrible place to host this month-long festival of football. For a start, FIFA claim to be against discrimination and gender inequality yet fans traveling to Qatar will be entering a state where homosexuality is illegal, women still need permission to apply for a driving licence* and rape within marriage is not considered a crime.

Then there are the practicalities: the temperature in Qatar can - and frequently does - get dangerously high. I went in the autumn and still couldn't handle the heat (whole swathes of the day were a write off) and there are legitimate concerns for the safety of the players. The original plan was to counter this by building air-conditioned stadiums, but these plans have now been scrapped.

Furthermore, there's the simple fact that not many Qataris really care much about football. This considered, you’d surely have to question the sanity of building eight - perhaps even ten – very expensive stadiums around the Yorkshire-sized country.

© The Guardian

Perhaps I could forgive them for all of the above, but for the fact that the tournament's infrastructure is being built at the cost of untold human death and misery. According to some sources a thousand slaves have already died on World Cup-related construction sites (That's right, slaves. Apparently it's still the 18th century over there). The International Trade Union Confederation has predicted the death toll could reach 4,000 by the time a ball is kicked.

You could argue that FIFA aren't to blame, and I would counter that argument by suggesting that you're talking out of your arse. They have the power to stop it today, but it's still happening. So fuck them, and fuck their World Cup in Qatar.

*I just re-read this 8 years later and felt I should note that since 2020 women no longer need a guardian’s permission to obtain a driving license. 

My Love-Hate Relationship with the World Cup

Following the frantic flapping of three terrorised doves desperately trying to flee the stadium's four walls of noise, the 2014 World Cup kicked off. 

One of the three kids charged with releasing the birds - a stunt presumably arranged to symbolise FIFA's renowned dedication to world peace (!) - proceeded the act with a protest. As thirteen year-old Jeguaká Mirim walked off the pitch he held a sign aloft demanding land rights for indigenous people. However, unless you were there you wouldn't have seen it because the television cameras ignored it. After all, this was to be the World Cup of turning blind eyes and ignoring the needs, rights and desires of the people. Welcome to Fifaland.

The view from my 'office' one evening in Rio. © Ryan Chapman

The opening day of the World Cup provided me with a cocktail of emotions. By that point I had spent two incredible weeks in one of the most scintillating cities on earth, falling in love with it all over again having first visited back in 2007 - as an only slightly fresher faced traveller - on my first foray outside of Europe. The previous evening had seen Christ the Redeemer bathed in yellow and green light to mark the imminent arrival of the tournament and surely never before has such a simple gesture had such a huge impact on the mood of a city. Rio de Janeiro was positively buzzing, and it was infectious.

In the hours leading up to the much anticipated kick-off I attended two very different anti World Cup demonstrations. The first had a party atmosphere with samba bands marching through the streets accompanied by revellers in fancy dress shooting bubble guns and water pistols. The second had a far darker tone after beginning with the arrest of two activists, much to the anger of the gathered crowd. There were times in both when I didn't want to be branded 'just another journalist' and so put my camera away and got more involved. When I caught myself on the frontline shouting slogans against the violence of the heavily armoured military police directly at the heavily armoured military police I justified it by calling it immersive filmmaking.

Me (bottom left with the camera, not the sign)

I dragged myself away as Brazil's opening match approached and entered an entirely different world: The Fan Fest. Occupying a sizeable chunk of Rio's famous sands, this was the FIFA-organised public viewing area and I had assumed, the place to be. I entered with an open mind, determined not to blindly resent it. However, it appeared for whatever reason that most locals had stayed away. It was full to capacity but out of those in Brazil shirts - and there were many - barely any knew the words to the national anthem, revealing just how many gringos had adopted Brazil as their second team.

I left the Fan Zone after fifteen minutes and found the scenes on the streets much more as I had expected. Every bar and restaurant had people spilling onto the pavement, straining for a view of the action. Street corner barbecues encouraged gatherings around tiny television sets; viewers taking it in turns to readjust the aerial for a better reception. This was more like it. When Brazil scored their equaliser the place went berserk. The explosive barrage of fireworks was drowned out by the delighted screams of a nation and the significance of the occasion hit me like a train.

My World Cup unfolded in much the same vein: dipping in and out of protests while sustaining a complicated love-hate relationship with the whole affair. Most days were spent either shooting or editing my films (FIFA and the Perfect Con) and most nights involved reluctantly declining invitations to go out drinking due to the workload and early starts. Unfortunately, the limited time I had set aside for 'enjoyment' coincided - in a very non-coincidental and all too premeditated way - with England matches. Considering this wasn't the first time I'd followed England to a major tournament, I should've known what to expect.

The disappointment after scooting across to Sao Paulo full of hope that we could perhaps scrape a 0-0 draw against the Uruguayans was somewhat sweetened by the enormous nightly street parties. Fans from every nation - even non-participating ones - gathered to mingle, sing, drink and dance through dawn. Street vendors provided chilled beers and spirits from cool boxes while bass-loving locals showed off their vehicles' sound systems, parking up to provide tunes from car boot discos.

Throughout the journey I was pleasantly surprised to discover that even the most fanatical flag-waving, horn-blowing Brazilians were willing to voice their anti-government and anti-FIFA opinions. Few, it seemed, supported FIFA's event unconditionally. Of those who chose to protest some opted for high-impact methods while others went for subtlety, like the red card protest on Copacabana (somber looking folk lined up displaying red cards to FIFA) or the theatrical open heart surgery carried out by a mock surgeon wearing goalkeeper gloves (in response to the state's prioritising of football over health care).

Perhaps the most poignant metaphor of all, however, was an accidental one. I've since learnt that two of the three aforementioned doves released before kick-off didn't make it out of the stadium alive, reportedly crashing into the roof structure in blind panic. Not only does this obviously make a mockery of the whole gesture but it is characteristic of FIFA's World Cup on a much broader scale: everything looks great for the cameras, but reality is heartbreakingly different.

Originally featured on filterview.tv you can now watch all three parts of FIFA and the Perfect Con combined on Vimeo:

Brazil's Mellowed Yellows

Finally! Today sees the start of Brazil's month-long party and who's going to admit they're not at least a little bit excited? Get the crushed ice and limes ready! Also, while you're at it, prepare for police brutality and lungs full of tear gas.

Recent research revealed that 61% of Brazilians are now against the World Cup. That, when you think about it, is an incredible statistic. Several years ago almost the entire country was in favour of hosting the event, but evidence suggests enthusiasm has faded. How this enormous swing in public opinion has occurred I hope is answered in my films (FIFA and the Perfect Con).

Though 61% of the population may be against the World Cup I wouldn't suggest for one moment that they won't be tuning in to watch their yellow-shirted heroes later today. It may be a moral tightrope, but I for one am walking it with ease, and I expect most Brazilians will too. I have no problem with being against FIFA and their abhorrent World Cup model whilst being excited by the prospect of four weeks of watching the best players in the world in action (and England).

Salvador © Ryan Chapman

Over three weeks ago I arrived in the sun-drenched city of Salvador to begin my filmmaking adventure. Not many people go to Salvador for a week without hitting the beach, but that was me. If I wasn't out meeting people and shooting interviews I was sat with my laptop and Final Cut Pro with a flowing supply of coffee. I did find the time to explore Salvador's streets - even plucking up the 'courage' to leave the confines of the 'tourist safe' three-block centre of the old town - and what I saw cemented my preconceptions that Salvador is a city of contrasts. Cobbled roads lined with colourful colonial buildings by which men sit playing dominoes soon give way to chaotic thoroughfares where shops compete for attention by blaring out terrible dance music amid the enthusiastic hooting of a thousand impatient drivers.

Most people I encountered would enquire as to whether I was there for the World Cup and would be happy to talk about it. We'd invariably communicate in either their broken English or my terrible Spanish-Portuguese-hybrid and conclude with a laugh that England have no chance. Only when I questioned them further would they reveal their feelings towards the government and FIFA, and on every single occasion they admitted that their passion for the tournament had been diluted. And this was in Salvador: a city that hadn't seen protests on the same scale as cities in the south.

Brasilia © Ryan Chapman

From Salvador, the first capital of Brazil, I flew to Brasilia: the current. For a period in between, Rio had the privilege, but in the late 1950's it was decided that Brazil's government should be more centrally located and so two men were tasked with designing a new capital. I like to imagine them plotting the roads and utilities on Sim City, perhaps sending in the occasional tornado or alien invasion when things got boring. The architect of the pair's work is well celebrated thanks to the striking modernist nature of his creations. The urban planner, however, did not receive many accolades.

He did not design a pedestrian-friendly city, having assumed everyone who lives there would drive cars. As a result, Brasilia lacks street-life and thus personality. It is split into zones specific to their purpose - residential, commercial, banking, hotels - inside which blocks are assigned numbers and buildings are assigned letters. There's something eerily science-fictional about the repetitive layout and the uniformed naming convention. Even the metro stations are numbered (I won't admit how many times I got off at Sul 108 instead of Sul 106. Or was it Sul 104? I forget.)

On my second day in Brasilia was an anti-World Cup protest which I document comprehensively in Part 2 of my films (which, by the way, will be online tomorrow). As a consequence of my experience during this protest my opinion has changed. Originally, I thought the significance of the occasion, and the importance of the World Cup to Brazilian society, might prevent people from protesting and disrupting the tournament. However, I've now realised what a small role the World Cup is playing. Instead, it is the violence of the military police that is keeping people off the streets. Many people are simply too scared. It seems in Brazil the government is successfully repressing the people, and it's not a very pleasant thing to be witnessing.

Ipanema Beach, Rio © Ryan Chapman

I'm now in Rio, and over the last week or so I have noticed gradually increasing levels of what can only be described as World Cup fever seeping in. There are several streets drowning in flags and stalls on major junctions selling just about everything in yellow and green that you can think of. By all accounts, however, it's not happening on even close to the same scale as it usually does during a World Cup. You'd expect hosting the event would intensify the carnival atmosphere, but apparently not this time.

When the actions of a governing body causes the most passionate supporters of the thing it is governing to resent it you have to question the viability of that body. FIFA have lost the game. I personally hope there are regular protests that cause a good deal of chaos and disruption to send them, and the Brazilian government, a very strong message. And I would love to see visiting fans taking part. I, for sure, will be one of them.

Film: FIFA and the Perfect Con

It is said in Brazil that the nation's most popular sport is volleyball, as football is not considered a sport, but a religion. Indeed, though the game originates in England (I'm writing this now just a goalkeeper's kick away from the currently very soggy patch of grass in Cambridge where many of the rules were established) you cannot think Brazil without thinking football.

Later this year Brazil will host what promises to be one of the biggest parties the planet has ever seen: The 2014 FIFA World Cup. However, not all Brazilians are as enthused by the prospect as you might imagine. Several months ago, over a million people poured onto the streets in cities across the country to join anti-government demonstrations fuelled by anger over a rise in bus fares, inadequate public services and corruption. These protests soon developed anti-World Cup sentiments with 'FIFA, go home' being one of the more prominent take-home messages. Why? Because hosting a World Cup that meets FIFA's stringent demands is a huge drain on public resources. Too much of a drain, according to many.

A clear message from protesters. (Photo: sueddeutsche.de)

My film - working title: FIFA and the Perfect Con - will explore the contrast between Brazil's unwavering passion for football and the somewhat paradoxical, but no less justifiable, rise of World Cup resentment. It will tell the stories of people who feel neglected by the government - like those who've been forcefully evicted from their homes to clear land for construction projects (170,000 people according to one report) - and those who feel they have been brushed under the carpet as the country prepares itself for the beam of the brightest spotlight imaginable.

Sadly, it's not the first time we've seen a country that is plagued by poverty needlessly overspend in order to tick FIFA's boxes. An assortment of brand new stadiums were built across South Africa for the 2010 World Cup to satisfy football's international governing body and their requirements. This was despite the fact that, in some cases, upgrading existing stadia would have sufficed. One example of an unnecessary new-build was Cape Town Stadium: the focus of my 2013 film Cape Town's White Elephant.

Shooting a time-lapse shot of Cape Town's 'white elephant' for the film mentioned above.

In Brazil, six new stadiums are being constructed and though they stand a better chance of a prosperous post-tournament life, due to the greater popularity of football in Brazil than in South Africa, many Brazilians say the money could have been better spent. 'We want FIFA-standard hospitals and schools' is a common jibe seen inscribed on protesters' placards and graffitied on walls around cities nationwide.

The 'perfect con' in question is of course the World Cup itself. Countries - or more specifically, politicians - want it because of the immediate punch it packs on the global stage. They're willing to do anything to make it happen, but give little thought to the repercussions. Meanwhile, FIFA sit back and dictate; ensuring everything goes their way and nothing impedes their relentless quest to maximise revenue. They even implement strictly enforced 2km 'exclusion zones' around each stadium, inside which they have full control of what is sold and advertised (in accordance, of course, with their lucrative corporate partnerships).

Then, following the last blast of the referee's whistle, they walk away with the lion's share of profits which, as stipulated by themselves from the very beginning, is received entirely free of tax. The prolific Brazilian goal-scorer and 1994 World Cup winner Romário, now a politician, has been outspoken against FIFA, saying: "they come, set up the circus, they spend nothing and take everything".

They get away with it because, unfortunately, one cannot support the World Cup without supporting FIFA by unavoidable association and, for me at least, every fourth summer would be agonisingly dull without the damned thing.

England fans in 2010 before it all went horribly wrong. Bloemfontein, South Africa.

The last time the World Cup was contested on Brazilian soil it ended in disaster for the hosts. On July 16th 1950, Uruguay stunned the world by coming from behind to win the decisive match at Rio de Janeiro's Maracanã Stadium in front of 200,000 spectators. It's a day Brazilians have never forgotten. The goalkeeper who was ultimately blamed for the defeat suffered immeasurably for the rest of his days; was considered a curse; and died penniless. Shortly before his death he revealed the saddest moment of his life was when, twenty years after the event, a woman pointed at him in a supermarket and told her young son "he is the man that made all of Brazil cry".

That defeat made the World Cup a national obsession and Brazil went on to dominate future competitions to become arguably the greatest team of all time. Regardless of the success, however, a victory on home soil is what Brazilians crave, and sixty-four years later they have the chance to exorcise the demons of 1950. This time though, their young and inexperienced team will have to compete amidst a distracting backdrop of political tension and civil unrest. The World Cup is not expected to pass without incident, and to curtail any rebellion, a special riot force has been formed and armed with rubber bullets and tear gas bombs.

Rio's iconic Maracanã Stadium. (Photo: The Guardian)

When I heard of the growing voice among Brazilians calling for a boycott of the tournament, there was an element of surprise. However, after taking a moment to consider their position, I found it easy to understand why they're so discontented and why they believe FIFA has stolen the soul of football's biggest festival. It's thanks to FIFA that the World Cup continues to be less and less about the football and more and more about the money.

Nonetheless, football is still very much a lifeblood of this vibrant nation and regardless of the dubious motives of FIFA as they're pulling the strings, I find it hard to believe that, come June, Brazil won't be bouncing to its own samba-infused beat.