Thomas Hobbes & English Mechanism

WCC has noted previously that the England team appears to operate somewhat mechanistically. Even over a successful qualification campaign it seemed that Fabio Capello’s efforts had yielded mechanical rather than organic solidarity. The team was playing well together, but like an ordered collection of components rather than a smooth functioning whole. This reflects English society to a degree: this nation is closely defined by the temporal framework of a 9 to 5, Monday to Friday culture. Collectivist solutions to social problems such as the Welfare State, which were predominantly put into place in the immediate post-war era, also have something of an overarching mechanistic quality.

The philosophical principle mechanism is based on the notion that living entities are essentially machines. Thomas Hobbes provided a famous exposition of mechanism in his work Leviathan: he stated that society or the state was like an artificial man. Humans are a work of nature who comprise an artificial collective which requires the control of a powerful sovereign source. The parts of the machine may interrelate, but an external agent prescribes the ordering and nature of this relationship. This contrasts with organicism which states that social forms are best understood as organic wholes. Macro phenomena are not reducible to the parts which make up the whole. Emergent properties arise via complex interrelationships within and between different levels of the social body. Order is therefore emergent rather than imposed by an external entity.

The mechanism which animates life in England has changed however, and the parts have become increasingly fragmented. Neo-liberalism has been the key political philosophy since the 1980s and this requires a footloose and individualized workforce. One of the aims of neo-liberalism is to free people from the restraints of unresponsive and unwieldy state systems. The problem with this approach is that legitimate authority becomes eroded as an atomised consumption-oriented populace comes to view personal material gain as its sovereign guiding principal.

There is accordingly some uncertainty with regard to the best way to prompt cohesion and functionality from the England team. England aren’t flexible or talented enough to comprise an organic whole, but neither are they team-oriented enough to diligently serve a more mechanistic team ethic. During the Sven Goran Eriksson years, a ‘neo-liberal’ laissez-faire approach seemed to be adopted, with the focus on fielding the best players with the hope that they work the system out between themselves. But the team usually operated as a disjointed collection of components, rather than empowered free spirits. For World Cup 2010 it was decided that a more Leviathan-like approach under Capello was required: it was hoped that authority could wring the machine’s parts into some sort of working order. However, whereas managers such as Eriksson (and Steve McClaren) were viewed as too weak, Capello has been viewed as too autocratic. If the players are referred to as ‘JT’ and ‘Stevie G’, then the coach is an insufficient sovereign authority. But stop them from having a beer and you’re denying them fundamental human rights!

Germany were traditionally viewed as a machine-like, efficient team but have evolved into a more organic unit with fast and flexible attacking players in the side. In contrast Capello’s England looked very laboured at World Cup 2010, as the coach tried to prompt a semblance of coordination from his collection of individuals. Capello imposed enough mechanistic order for England to bulldoze lesser opposition in the qualifiers. But under tournament pressure, and presented with superior rivals, the machine faltered like an overused VHS recorder. It could take some time for England’s football ethos to meet the requirements of the international game. Until it does, the best we can hope for is a machine that can make it to the quarter-finals of major tournaments – before it is then outmanoeuvred and outwitted by more organic entities.

Bibliography

Here is a selection of books which have either informed or inspired World Cup College articles.

Football/Sport
Brilliant Orange – David Winner
Inverting the Pyramid – Jonathan Wilson
The Meaning of Sport – Simon Barnes
Why England Lose – Simon Kuper & Stefan Syzmanski
Football and Chess – Adam Wells
Leftfield – Graeme Le Saux
What Sport Tells Us About Life – Ed Smith
Soccer and Philosophy - Ted Richards (ed)
Moneyball – Michael Lewis

Academic
Straw Dogs – John Gray
Labyrinths – Jorge Luis Borges
The Myth of Sisyhpus – Albert Camus
Sartre – Iris Murdoch
The Re-Emergence of Emergence – Philip Clayton & Paul Davies (eds)
The Selfish Gene – Richard Dawkins
Mind Time – Benjamin Libet
The Blank Slate – Steven Pinker
The Origin of Consciousness in the Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind – Julian Jaynes
Rethinking Social Theory – Roger Sibeon
Understanding Organizations – Charles Handy
Critical Mass – Philip Ball
The Fabric of Reality – David Deutsch
Hyperspace – Michio Kaku 

The Library of Menotti

Argentine writer Jorge Luis Borges scribed inventive labyrinthine tales which delve into arcane metaphysical worlds. One of the key themes Borges explores is infinity – this theme is a key element of his short story ‘The Library of Babel’. In this story, Borges creates a universe (the Library) which is comprised of an indeterminate and perhaps infinite number of hexagonal galleries.

Something of this spirit seems to animate Argentinean football philosophy. The manager of their World Cup winning team of 1978, Luis Menotti, stated that ‘a team is above all an idea’. A football team is therefore more than a collection of situated components (players) that are understood with reference to their positioning in finite space. Instead, the team is a transcendental, emergent entity that meets an ideational standard.

Argentina’s current coach is controversial genius Maradona. His management of the team prior to World Cup 2010 was vaguely Borgesian in that he used an interminable number of players (more than 100) in qualifiers and friendlies. Exploring such a multitude of possibilities has enabled him to realise his idea of team and it accommodates the attacking talents of Higuain, Messi, Tevez and Di Maria. A fluid, vibrant ethic demonstrates that a team is more than the fixed positioning of players within a coordinate system – a team should promise the infinite! As Borges almost states in The Library of Babel: ‘The football team is a sphere whose exact centre is any one of its players and whose circumference is inaccessible.’ 

The English approach is more about the bottom-up construction of a material entity than the realisation of an idea. The aim is not to meet an overarching ideal, but simply about placing the best players in their best positions. This means that the team is viewed as a machine which will function if the parts are properly aligned: for England, therefore, the key concern is the arrangement of a mechanistic team’s components.

Italian coach Fabio Capello has endeavoured to reconcile the English approach with the requirements of international football. As he has adopted such a mechanistic philosophy and framework, Capello has the task of mending a machine rather than developing an ideal: the requirement is thus to bend and flex the materiality of the team into a form which can measure up to opposition sides. Back in January WCC noted that England were playing well under Capello, but that mechanical rather than organic solidarity had been attained. The shortcomings of the side had been addressed, but by hammering the parts into shape and papering over the mended area. And mechanical malfunction has followed, with Capello’s best efforts rendering the England side a skewed 4-4-2 with Gerrard moving infield from left-midfield to compensate for England’s lack of presence in central areas. There is no adherence to a transcendental notion of team – just the objective to rearrange the components into a functional mechanistic process. So when the team fails to function it ends up as a warped rhombus, rather than absolute space populated by an infinite number of hexagonal galleries!

Penalties or corner-kicks?

Back in 2009 World Soccer magazine offered a range of suggestions which they believed could enhance the modern game. One suggestion in particular would have serious impact upon tournament football. That is, the number of respective corner-kicks for teams should be used to decide tied fixtures in the knockout phase. This system would thus replace the current usage of the penalty shootout. WCC asked Naranjito and Allied Forces’ goalkeeper Robert Hatch: should corner-kicks replace the penalty shootout?

Yes: The penalty shoot-out presents one of the biggest shortcomings of contemporary football. Penalties used to be a last resort to resolve matches, but now they seem inevitable almost from kick-off. Teams often prefer to hold on for a shoot-out rather than expose themselves defensively by chasing victory. The last World Cup final provides a clear example. With France and Italy at 1-1 by half-time, a penalty shoot-out seemed a virtual certainty long before the final whistle.

The penalty shoot-out might not be a lottery as is oft stated, but it bears little resemblance to the real game of football. Such a contrivance should not decide a complete game played between 22 players over 120 minutes. Penalties also psychologically favour the team who is most fortunate to have drawn the game and thus favour defensive sides. A team that has attacked throughout a game but failed to score is likely to approach the shoot-out in a defeated state of mind. Man Utd v Arsenal in the 2005 FA Cup Final provides an example of the more defensive side triumphing.

Whereas the penalty shoot-out encourages teams to defend, utilising corner-kicks as a mechanism for deciding drawn games will stimulate attacking play. Games would be decided entirely from open play and a more equitable mechanism for differentiation between teams tied on goals will thus have been realised. The reliance on the penalty shoot-out has already started to undermine tournament football. Using corner-kicks is an obvious solution: it will increase the chance for the best team to win and by encouraging attacking football may also reduce the number of draws anyway. Ultimately the game will be decided in the appropriate way: by rewarding teams over the course of the match, not through a silly gameshow ritual appended to the actual game.

No: Penalties may be something of a contrivance, but why replace them with another contrivance: the elevation in value of the corner-kick. Whilst it may not seem equitable to award games on penalties after a hard fought fixture, the shoot-out is still a test of skill and nerve, so isn’t completely distinct from the requirements of the open game.

My concern with using corner kicks is that it could change the fabric of the game in unforeseeable ways. Football’s main appeal is its simplicity, and its straightforward scoring system underpins this simplicity. Goals are what count in football, so introducing an ancillary scoring mechanism would damage the sport. If the shoot-out was dispensed with, I believe big games would remain tight and teams would seek corner-kicks instead in the endeavour to gain the requisite advantage. Do we really want to see wingers charging for the corner at every opportunity in the attempt to win a flag-kick? Imagine also the additional fuss for referees and their assistants when they have to call a close one: goal-kick or corner?

There is also something more purposeful and direct about penalties. Corners are ultimately conceded by the defence, rather than won by the attacking team. Reward in football should be a direct outcome of intent i.e. shots yielding goals. Corner-kicks seem too dependent on contingent events; they confer reward merely by being an approximate indication of a team’s overall territorial advantage. I understand that corners would only be a secondary system of award to be used in the event of a draw; but this still subverts the principles of football. Football matches must be decided by goals and goals alone: even if these sometimes have to be scored in a penalty shoot-out.

Spain 82

Magazine FourFourTwo has run a nice regular supplement this year which has reviewed each World Cup finals since 1982. The question they pose is ‘Which is your World Cup?’
 
The World Cup that I have most affinity with is Spain 82, as I was just old enough to have an appreciation of what was going on. But interestingly, the principal elements of fascination have endured into adulthood. As a youngster it seemed a distant and exciting affair, full of mysterious countries and players – and this still feels the case today. The World Cup is a vibrant tournament of colour and anticipation. The early stages of the tournament are perhaps the most exciting when all of the nations are still involved and the possibilities are at their broadest.  Magazines and sticker albums show a multiplicity of countries with a kaleidoscopic array of different flags and strips.  It’s not possible to take in all of the detail, but one absorbs the overall sensation.
 
In 1982, literature on the tournament intimated an arcane and fascinating world of both history and predictions. For example, the publication pictured included a photo of a mysterious great Pele (pronounced Peel to a young child), and bizarre headlines such as ‘England must Czech the French before they strike oil’, which probably confused half of the adult readership as well. I also had a book in which the mascot Naranjito thwarts some baddies who are trying to blow up the finals.
 
Amongst the sensations recalled from 1982 is the 10-1 administered to El Salvador by Hungary. This was clearly a phenomenal score-line, and I mused as I filled in my wallchart that Hungary must be the best team in the world ever – they failed to make it beyond the first group stage! I also remember the England v Spain game was (according to parental guidance) on too late for me to watch; my Dad agreed to write down the score and leave it next to my bed, so I could see it first thing in the morning. England needed to win 2-0 to progress to the semi-finals and I was convinced that they would make it through. The note the next day read ‘0-0′, but this served as an excellent grounding for all further disappointments.
 
My interest far exceeded the tribulations of England however. Even at a young age it was possible to discern that the Brazil v Italy game represented what sport should be about. The thrilling Brazilian side in their yellow shirts were defeated 3-2 by the underdogs Italy in the brilliant Spanish sunshine. 
 
I also missed the France v Germany semi-final, but heard all about the horror of the Schumacher/Battiston challenge the next day and struggled to comprehend how such an injustice had occurred. This did provide a perfect narrative for the final though. It wasn’t just two nations playing: it was good v bad, somewhat akin to The Rebel Alliance v The Dark Side. I was allowed to stay up with my brother to watch the final and we vociferously supported Italy. Although I probably didn’t have much idea what was going on, the final gripped me. Italy were victorious and this provided temporary reassurance that the world was governed by just principles!

Dramatic Scapegoats

Mrs Mangle

In his work Poetics, Aristotle highlighted that the aim of dramatic storytelling was catharsis. This term refers to an emotional purification or cleansing: the audience would attain this state through identifying with the unfolding of dramatic events. This links to the notion of cathartic sacrifice, which can be realised via a scapegoat: that is a person who is blamed and punished to attenuate the suffering and crimes of others. Artistic performance enables the audience to purge themselves of frustration and self-doubt by directing their righteous anger at a dramatic scapegoat. Great dramatic scapegoats include Mrs Mangle from TV’s Neighbours.

International football enables the audience to watch their home country assert its qualities within a sporting arena; the personal identity of fans can become subsumed under this national focus during critical junctures in the footballing calendar. Success at the World Cup can foster a sense of collective well-being and, as a consequence, briefly assist individual members of a population to transcend their petty quotidian concerns. When success is thwarted it is necessary, in the first instance, to seek a scapegoat to assuage the negative impact upon national and personal pride. To address the locus of the world’s shortcomings and sufferings, the catharsis of persecution is preferable to introspection.

Catharsis may explain the national response to some of England’s recent disappointments in major tournaments. At World Cup 2006, England were knocked out at the quarter-final stage by Portugal after they had been reduced to ten men. Wayne Rooney was dismissed for stamping on defender Ricardo Carvalho’s groin. However, Rooney was also goaded by Cristiano Ronaldo following this incident; Rooney retaliated by shoving Ronaldo, and it appeared that this could have contributed to the sending off. Rather than turning on Rooney, the English nation sought catharsis by focusing their ire on Ronaldo. The channelling of disgust at the hubristic, underhand Portuguese star enabled emotional release whilst protecting sentiments of national superiority. The nemesis Ronaldo was therefore the scapegoat, rather than the tragic English hero Rooney.

However, cathartic sacrifice can have a homegrown referent. At World Cup 1998 David Beckham was sent off against Argentina, in a game in which England were eventually despatched on penalties. Beckham’s dismissal was probably harsher than Rooney’s: Beckham kicked out at Diego Simeone but it was a tame incident which was exacerbated by the elaborate response of the Argentine. It may have been assumed that the English population would have sought emotional cleansing by channelling their frustration at the cheating foreigner. But instead, a sustained campaign of vitriol was initiated against Beckham: he was portrayed as a feckless pretty-boy with an inadequate sense of national responsibility. Beckham’s momentary lack of self-control exposed his human fallibilities; this helped to distract the members of the collective vigilante squad from their own disappointments and inadequacies.

The reasons why Ronaldo and Beckham were selected as scapegoats to facilitate catharsis (rather than Rooney or Simeone) are likely to be multifarious and complex. But one possible factor is that, when choosing a scapegoat, it provides an additional function if the persecuted individual is better looking than us.