It was deeply uncomfortable sitting in on the press conference at Stamford Bridge on Sunday and it had nothing to do with the few feet of the space available to reporters having been eaten up by the expansion of the away dressing room. It had everything to do with the pink cheeks of Eddie Howe as he was asked about the fact that, the day before, Saudi Arabia had announced the execution of 81 men.
Human-rights observers claim many of those killed had been tortured beforehand and their trials lacked transparency. Saudi’s Public Investment Fund has an 80 per cent stake in Newcastle United, but the club’s manager steadfastly refused to comment on the mass execution. He would stick, he said, to matters on the pitch. Newcastle fans complain that it is unfair to put questions about the human-rights record of what are, effectively, his employers to a man paid to concentrate on such matters as in which minute it would be appropriate to introduce Allan Saint-Maximin from the bench as the club navigate their path away from the relegation zone.
However, this was no ordinary press conference. It was the first game played at Stamford Bridge since the Russian invasion of Ukraine and subsequent sanctions imposed by the British government against Roman Abramovich, who bought Chelsea 19 years ago. The backdrop was all about morality and responsibility, crime and punishment, ethics and business.
Thomas Tuchel was prepared for the difficult questions and trod, very well, the fine line between how football pales into insignificance while acknowledging how the sport can bring respite in times of despair. The Chelsea manager, could, if he had chosen to, refused to answer anything not related to how his team had struggled without their first-choice wing backs yet had won courtesy of a spark of genius. Instead, he spoke like a man who has done his homework, given the sanctions deep thought and come to the conclusion that his is, still, a privileged position.
Howe, by way of contrast, spoke like a man who does not listen to the news, read the papers or dwell upon deeper questions of personal responsibility. Had the former Bournemouth manager been in situ during the sale of Newcastle by Mike Ashley to the Saudi sovereign wealth fund then there would be more sympathy for his refusal to engage. But the 44-year-old chose to join a project that has at its core the role of sportswashing. By insisting that he will speak only about the football, Howe, whether he likes it or not, is part of that sportswashing. Let’s not dwell on the murder of Jamal Khashoggi, the dissident Saudi journalist, nor the execution of the 81, let’s chat about how Jacob Murphy should have won a penalty and the way the team is steaming up the table. This is what sportswashing is designed to do, replace uncomfortable conversations with the joy and angst of goals and glory. Howe needs to at least convey that he has engaged with the wider debate even if he does not want to share his personal beliefs.
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It was simpler for Tuchel, of course, because he was reacting to unfolding events. The government has taken action, denounced Abramovich and imposed sanctions so that the German has no need to speak of why he joined Chelsea in the first place. History has marched on. Russia had not invaded Ukraine when he became manager in January 2021 and the club is at present linked with a variety of potential new owners including, ironically, the Saudi Media Group. And so it rumbles on, this vexed question of who is fit to own a football club.
If clubs are special assets, with deep-rooted links to their local communities, our nation’s social history and tied to our mental health then their ownership cannot be at the mercy of market forces, cannot be ego projects, cannot be tools for sports washing.
Until now the primary concern of the fit and proper ownership test has been about solvency and the desire to protect clubs from false financial promises. The plight of Chelsea has shifted the boundaries. Clubs patently need owners who are not shady, whose source of wealth is unambiguous, whose motives are not clinically political.
Perhaps the only way for this to be close to achievable is for there to be a moral arbiter on an adjudication panel that assesses every takeover. This would need to be either someone with national treasure status — which is patently unworkable — or a lawyer from a human rights watchdog. Even then, it would be immensely complicated. Grey areas would spring up all over the place.
Would there be a cosy morally acceptable nook for Manchester City to be owned by Sheikh Mansour if that deal was brokered today? After all, Amnesty International believes the club to be diverting us from the United Arab Emirates’ “deeply tarnished image” via the team’s success. Many West Ham United fans remain embarrassed at their owners’ porn industry background and lack of empathy with supporters. The leveraged buyout of the distant Glazers is anathema to plenty of Manchester United fans. Fans appalled by countries who apply the death penalty might prefer their club not to be owned by Americans. Those who have seen families destroyed by gambling addiction would argue that clubs should not be funded by businessmen who have accrued their wealth through betting companies.
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Anyone who buys a football club needs to be rich, and the rich get rich enough to buy a piece of sporting history by being ruthless. If we handed part ownership to the supporters would that remove moral headaches? After all, the vast majority of Newcastle fans support their new ownership model. Supporters can be ruthless too.
Howe might have read how Boris Johnson is planning a trip to Saudi Arabia, keen for a way to replace oil supplies from Russia, and wonder why on earth he should enter the moral maze when the prime minister is skulking near its exit door. But if he is, then he really should indicate it is on his radar. Humming loudly to drown out perfectly reasonable questions about lives lost is not acceptable.
