Be it football’s highest governing body or some other entity, the culture of impunity is mostly perpetrated by power-hungry men; giving up on the fight against it is not an option
A still from the documentary FIFA Uncovered
Last night we watched the last episode of the documentary, Fifa Uncovered, and I felt a combination of awe and anger at the levels of impunity of the men at the top. The extent of the corruption it investigates is staggering, and the deceitful ways in which it is inevitably linked to ‘the good’ of football are delusional. I tried to muster a critical and even cynical distance as I waded through each gripping episode. Unlike Vatican Girl, a documentary we had tried to watch that over-invests in a slew of conspiracy theories surrounding the disappearance of Emanuela Orlandi with visuals that over-show and over-tell to the point where nothing is left to the imagination, Fifa Uncovered is taut and incisive. I am not a football fan. I enjoy watching the game when I am with others who are also watching. I don’t know all the rules, but I like the camaraderie. Knowing that any moment a goal can be scored, adds to the sense of suspense and spectacle. If you asked me to name three contemporary players, I would be out of my depth. That’s the extent of my know-how. And yet, I was totally taken in by each episode of Fifa Uncovered.
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The last documentary we had seen that was football-oriented was Bad Sport, which chronicled, through elaborate interviews with key players, how Juventus, an iconic football club in Italy, was relegated thanks to an elaborate scandal of mind-boggling proportions. That feels like a petty crime when pitted against the brazen corruption that seems to have been embedded in FIFA’s DNA. What intrigued me most, though, was how various people, who were interviewed and whose testimonials constitute the documentary’s narrative, spoke about how the endemic nature of FIFA’s corruption had to do with the way the world works. I suppose that was where an intersectional feminist perspective could have homed in to say that this was a classic illustration of how patriarchy intersects with colonialism, racism, and various other forces to create a culture of impunity. In some ways it is kind of genius that the film manages to reveal the complex nexus between these forces and how it manifests to shape the compulsive nature of greed that is the defining feature of the men at the top.
It really stood out to me how men were always the key power-hungry players. It was always rooms full of men making decisions, based on bribes they have received, that have a clear impact on the world around them. The gap between the ‘mission’ of doing good for football by investing in developing nations and the ground reality in which nothing actually changes and the money is simply pocketed gets increasingly bolder. For someone like me who hadn’t at all followed the activities of FIFA, the documentary did indeed feel suspense-filled. At each turn, when Sepp Blatter is re-elected, I experienced shock.
How was it possible? If I was at the helm of an organisation that was accused of corruption, I would hang my head in shame and do whatever was necessary to make things right. But all the men who had to deal with accusations of any nature followed the exact same script when it came to dealing with accountability. They denied everything, feigned innocence, and said they did nothing that went against FIFA’s moral values, which makes you wonder what those values are. This is what is meant by the over-confidence of white men. I don’t think I could muster even an iota of their pride and conviction.
Listening to them justify themselves, project innocence and deflect blame reminded me also of the various defensive statements that were produced by men against whom allegations of sexual misconduct had been made during the #MeToo movement. I found myself returning to and dwelling on this word: impunity, which means ‘freedom from punishment or from the unpleasant results of something that has been done’. Most of these men were seemingly ‘banned’ from participating in cultural activities for about as long as the Pandemic lasted. Almost all of them have returned to society to reclaim their position and have been accepted with open arms by most institutions. Some successfully won defamation cases against those who accused them, placing them in a position of even greater power than before. If anyone was cancelled, it was those who dared to speak out against their perpetrators. Their reputations continue to be sullied. Knowing this makes me deeply angry. How do we reform cultures of impunity which have historically benefited from and nurtured patriarchy?
We continue to fight, I suppose. Opting out or giving up is not an option. We confront, we call out, we try to remedy. We stand up against the injustices to which we bear witness. And we relish every moment of singular joy to which we are privy amid our activism.
Deliberating on the life and times of Everywoman, Rosalyn D’Mello is a reputable art critic and the author of A Handbook For My Lover. She tweets @RosaParx
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The views expressed in this column are the individual’s and don’t represent those of the paper.
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