England fans celebrate after the soccer match at Piccadilly Circus in London on July 7, 2021.HENRY NICHOLLS/Reuters
John Rapley is a political economist at the University of Cambridge and the author of Twilight of the Money Gods: Economics as a Religion and How it all Went Wrong.
“It’s coming home,” they sang in London’s streets into the wee hours of Thursday morning. Having qualified for the final of the European football championship, the English fan is now experiencing a strange, unfamiliar, almost unsettling sensation: winning.
For all the chest-thumping that this is the land that gave us football, tales of triumph are now things that children gather around old men to hear. In truth, the rest of the world long ago concluded that whatever its heritage, England’s footballing glories lay in the past. Perpetual quarter-finalists, always a bridesmaid and never a bride, respectable foes who disappointed their supporters only because their supporters expected too much of them. The fact was, the country wasn’t all that good at football.
To traditionalists, this echoed England’s postwar decline. Shorn of its empire, weakened by immigration, outshone by a Germany that had lost the war but won the economic peace, it was said England now produced players who lacked the patriotic zeal of their forebears. And while the English Premier League, created in 1992, is today widely regarded as the world’s best, to old hands it only worsened the rot. With some of the world’s best players coming to play for English clubs, some of which have become global brands, local lads were finding it hard to get spots. Deprived of top-flight experience, they couldn’t grow into the sort of world-beating players England once produced.
A certain type of nationalist came to blame such cosmopolitanism for softening English resolve, whether on the playing field or in the workplace. England, they said, had to return to old ways. Such nostalgia helped drive the Brexit camp to victory in the 2016 referendum on European Union membership. Today, the winners of that battle delight that in football, as in all else, England’s got its mojo back. As Prime Minister Boris Johnson unfurled a massive cross of Saint George in Downing Street to celebrate England’s recent defeat of its arch-rival Germany, one of his former aides tweeted, “Poor Germans. This wasn’t the Brexit narrative fed them by their press, was it?”
There’s just one small problem with this tale of a newly liberated country recapturing past glories: Its heroes, the players and the coach making English hearts soar, are using another script. Everyone knows they’re a lot more progressive than the country’s leaders.
In contrast to the government’s hostility to refugees and immigrants, they celebrate the diverse origins of their squad. When the Black Lives Matters protests reached British shores, Mr. Johnson dismissed them for representing a “tiny minority”; the players disagreed and took the knee. Worst of all, belying the boasts of a government that it has thrown off the yoke of European oppression, the team has adopted a proudly European style of play (even to the point, some complain, that they’ve finally mastered the art of the dive).
England's Harry Kane celebrates his second goal with teammates at Wembley Stadium in London on July 7, 2021.LAURENCE GRIFFITHS/Reuters
England will play Italy in Sunday’s final. It used to be said that whereas the English played football with their hearts, the Italians played it with their minds. Italy long ago mastered the tactical game, based on technical skill, quick passing, what one might call a flexible interpretation of the rules, and the outwitting of opponents. The English, in contrast, kicked the ball long and chased it down field, ran their hearts out, never said die, “got stuck in it” and fought to the last whistle.
This England team, though, has reversed the order. Unlike past English coaches, who wanted their men to play with pride, Gareth Southgate stresses skill over strength and credits the quality of his team in part to many of them playing their club football in Europe. Chucking the heart-over-mind of the old playbook, he employs a degree of tactical flair that, stressing teamwork over individual heroics, makes the England team look positively Italian.
For English nationalists, all this has been too much to bear. When spectators were finally allowed back into football stands, they booed the players for taking the knee. Government ministers, always keen to pursue the “war on woke” that riles up their base, defended the fans and mocked the players’ “gesture politics.” One Conservative MP went so far as to announce he would boycott the team altogether and refuse to watch them.
In response, Mr. Southgate penned a “Dear England” letter which not only defended his players, but said they had a responsibility to society to use their voice for betterment. Then, directly addressing the racist strain that persists among too many England fans, he said, “I have some bad news. You’re on the losing side. It’s clear to me that we are heading for a much more tolerant and understanding society, and I know our lads will be a big part of that.”
The gauntlet had been thrown down. Call it woke, call it what you will, but the team expressed a vision of England that broke with nativist nostalgia.
Nothing succeeds like success. As the team advanced from one match to the next, England fans, used to letdowns, found themselves believing again. The crowds got bigger. As they did so, cheers started drowning out the boos. Tory politicians, wrong-footed, now rushed to have their photos taken in England jerseys.
But it’s tough to pull off this act when your earlier mockery is still ringing in everyone’s ears. Nobody doubted who was being referred to when, after Wednesday’s semi-final victory, one British pundit intoned: “The standard of leaders in this country the past couple of years has been poor, looking at that man (Southgate), he’s everything a leader should be, respectful, humble, he tells the truth.”
Moments of sporting glory seldom unite a country as divided as England for very long. Besides, although they reject the government’s politics, England’s players betray no obvious political ambitions. Still, they might have shown the way forward for Britain’s drifting political opposition.
Ever since Mr. Johnson won his thumping majority in the 2019 election, they’d assumed he’d won the culture war, and so steered clear of anything that seemed too progressive or pro-European. But this tournament gave much of the country a new outlet to express its unhappiness with the direction the government is taking the country. As if to say, “No sir, THIS is England,” they lie in wait for a political leader who can take that baton from the team.
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