Brazil 'learns' to play

For most of the 20th century, histories of sport in the Americas traced the emergence of certain physical practices and chronicled their progression over time, rarely paying much attention to the deeper ideological projects embedded in these transformations.

Often the focus of these studies was on the nation-state, and authors sought to understand how a set of physical practices came to be regarded as a central tenet of a given national identity – a national sport.

But what these studies portrayed as a “learning” process was in reality often a case of domination. The development of sporting cultures on this continent has, as a rule, marginalized indigenous practices in favour of the games introduced by the colonial forces.

However devastating this process has been, it has had its moments of resistance: there are many examples of the ways in which the games of the colonizers have been turned against them by indigenous peoples as a way to fight back.

It was no different in Brazil, where soccer first arrived as a foreign pursuit – introduced, as the legend goes, by Charles Miller, a descendent of the British upper classes who is to this day celebrated as a local hero.

It took Brazilians almost a century, filled with intensive struggles for participation, to give soccer a distinctive character of its own. Among the most notable outcomes of this process was the emergence of a style of play – a coupling between physical prowess and aesthetics that a whole world came to admire.

Perhaps less widely known, however, is that the emergence of this style of play was accompanied by the rise of a unique fan culture and of football as a significant expression of both individual and national identity.

Unholy alliance
It was therefore in direct contrast to these historical developments that, about seven years ago, an unholy alliance was formed, counting among its most distinguished members the Brazilian Football Confederation, FIFA, and different levels of the Brazilian government.

The alliance made decisions that served to recolonize professional soccer in Brazil.

Suddenly it became imperative to remove most reminiscences of the past: brand-new stadiums had to be constructed, and existing ones completely renovated; cutting edge urban infrastructure was needed; the capacity of security forces had to be greatly improved; and, perhaps most significantly, a substantial change in fan culture was required.

So it has happened that, over the course of the last seven years, everywhere we have seen the advancement of corporate interests taking over spaces that were formerly governed by soccer clubs and their members. Stadiums were paired up with shopping centres; naming rights were introduced; standing sections, where most passionate fans used to gather, were largely removed from stadiums; numbered seats became the standard; and, over and above, the price of tickets steadily increased year after year.

In line with such developments, it soon became apparent that what was in fact taking place was an “elitization”of Brazilian soccer, coupled with a corresponding exclusion of the traditional publics that have historically given the game its character.

Needless to say, all such changes were undertaken in an attempt to emulate the manner in which soccer is organized in Europe. At the expense of their own traditions, Brazilians found themselves once again being told how to play soccer “properly” by powerful entities from the global North – FIFA, in particular.

Elites were made more powerful
This is, of course, not to suggest that professional soccer in Brazil was without its problems before the country was granted the right to host the 2014 FIFA World Cup – corruption and fan violence (both physical and symbolic) were likely the most pressing of these problems.

Yet, the reforms that were set in motion have barely touched on these concerns. On the contrary, instead of placing under scrutiny the oligarchies that have long established themselves in the administration of Brazilian soccer, these elites were made even more powerful due to the affluence of capital.

And, rather than dealing with the issue of soccer-related violence, it became largely a matter of seeking ways to push the problem away from the stadium and its surroundings.

Precisely one year ago, however, the massive social movements that erupted all over Brazil shattered to the core what was already by then a shaky alliance between FIFA and the local government.

Stripped of its populist aspirations, and attempting to come to terms with its own past of political demonstrations, The Brazilian government struggled to take sides amidst the confusion that reigned for a few weeks. The relationship between FIFA and the government would deteriorate in the following months, particularly in face of the construction delays and the financial disputes that emerged.

Contrasting efforts
We now arrive at the kickoff to a World Cup of uncertainties. Two polarizing trends seem to have surfaced in the last few weeks: on the one hand, some groups are mobilizing to carry out new protests, at the same time that workers’ strikes have broken out in many of the cities that will be hosting games – sometimes even involving sectors such as public transportation that will be of key importance during the event.

On the other hand, there are also some coordinated efforts to cool down and prevent demonstrations by arguing that the moment for protesting has already passed and that it is now time to embrace and make the best of the tournament, helping the international reputation of the country.

Underlying these opposing views are the political interests associated with the provincial and national elections to be held in October. There have been very few times in the history of Brazil when the fate of the political elites was so intrinsically linked to what may take place both on and off the soccer pitch.

The fact remains that the protests opposing the World Cup in Brazil have been able to give traction to important political debates. The rebellion against unnecessary public expenditures in a country profoundly afflicted by social problems seemed quite timely, and many in the international community have enthusiastically supported these efforts.

But while I agree that the critique aimed at the misuse of public funds has been the driving force behind these movements, I suspect that it has sometimes caused us to overlook another important factor generating social unrest: namely, the gradual expropriation of Brazilian soccer from its traditional publics, and the  discomfort it produces in those whose life, to some degree, used to revolve around the beautiful game.