Article
Comment
Identity
Nationalism
Sport
6 min read

The Euros and the problem of nationality

In a world of populist nationalism, should you support your national team?

Sam Tomlin is a Salvation Army officer, leading a local church in Liverpool where he lives with his wife and children.

Two England fans stand in stadium seeting holding up their flag.
England fans at Euro 2024.
@FBAwayDays.

Tony Cascarino was a footballer in the 80’s and 90’s, playing for various clubs including Aston Villa, Celtic and Chelsea. He also won 88 caps for the Republic of Ireland scoring 19 goals. A good but fairly unremarkable career was turned on its head in 2000 when it came to light that he was never actually eligible to play for Ireland. After being rejected for an Irish passport in 1985 and learning on his Irish grandfather’s deathbed that he was not the natural father of his mother, Cascarino did not tell anyone and just kept playing international football. He only went public after he retired and published an autobiography. Quite simply he represented the Republic of Ireland without being Irish. 

Sport is a key marker for national identity in most nations’ cultural imaginations. Whichever nation wins this year’s Euro football tournament will have millions watching and tens or hundreds of thousands lining the streets for a victory parade, with national flags, politicians and celebrities in tow. The case of Tony Cascarino, however, exposes the shaky foundations of national identity. 

The general rule of international sport is that if you are born in a country, have a parent or grandparent born there, or have lived in it for a certain number of years, you can represent that country. Over the years this has led to some odd scenarios like 23 of 39 players in a recent Scotland rugby squad being born elsewhere or England’s 2005 Ashes hero Kevin Pietersen speaking in a broad South African accent. My children could technically represent Zimbabwe at international sport through a grandparent born there, even if they never set foot in the country. Declan Rice will be at the heart of England’s midfield in this tournament, but even he represented the Republic of Ireland three times at senior level, being able to switch teams because those matches were only friendlies. Gareth Southgate once commented: ‘first we had to convince him it would be a good decision [to switch to England].’ Far from being core to our identity, it seems as if nationality can often be chosen after weighing up the pros and cons. 

The best Christian teaching on identity undercuts both sides of the culture wars in a way that also avoids a centrist fudge.

Identity is a key aspect in dominant cultural discourse at the moment. The phrase ‘identity politics’ is often thrown at those who are perceived to locate the most important aspects of identity in one’s sexuality, gender or skin colour. Those on the other side are just as keen to define identity, but will stress the importance of national heritage along with accompanying national values. 

What does Christianity contribute to debates about identity? It is not hard to find activist Christians on both sides of these debates, especially on social media. Yet Christian belief has something more distinctive to say than the usual tropes in wider society. The best Christian teaching on identity undercuts both sides of the culture wars in a way that also avoids a centrist fudge. 

Jesus speaks about being ‘dying to yourself’ and being ‘born again’ when someone starts to follow him. While some associate these loaded phrases almost solely with a question of  eternal destiny after death (heaven or hell?), surely their meaning goes beyond this to the central question of identity. In essence, Jesus tells people that the things that used to be central to their identity actually become less important once you enter the kingdom built around him – you literally die to them and are born again. The centrality of national identity is relativised in parables like the good Samaritan where it is the enemy nation rather than the compatriot who offers help. The role of women is often flipped on its head as they provide the model of discipleship where the male disciples fall short. Wealth is stripped of its cultural power as Jesus’ followers are commanded to share and hold things in common. The allure of social status and significance is shorn of its potency as we see ourselves in the light of a God who made and cares for all of us without exceptions, and indeed holds special favour for the lowly and ‘unimportant’ in the eyes of everyone else. A Christian is not supposed to allow things like nationality, wealth, status or gender be too important in comparison to her identity in Jesus Christ and the community she enters when she begins to follow him. 

No other ideology or -ism in history has centred this self-giving relationship (not just ‘relationality’) at its heart. 

Both sides of the culture wars – what have become known as ‘woke globalism’ and ‘populist nationalism’ – have their own promises of community. Yet neither ultimately escape the rampant individualism of our culture, the unmistakable product of Enlightenment thinking. On the ‘liberal left’, personal preferences and choices are advanced as the central parts of identity. Yet on the other side, the logic of nationalism and even patriotism, however, is still built around the self – drawing a picture of the world which looks and sounds like me as much as possible. A Christian vision of identity is founded outside of the self - on God. Christian thinking has always been wary of any self-oriented ideology because it will be unsustainable in the long run. 

Other ideologies can offer a vision of identity beyond the self – communism, fascism, capitalism, for instance; all promise a fulfilling life if you submit yourself to them just as Christianity does. At their heart, however, these ideologies are simply that – ideologies without a face. Christians have always maintained that the living Jesus can never be separated from his teaching as if it is an ideology. At the heart of this faith and promise of identity is not first and foremost a way of life but a person with whom you can have a relationship. The mode of relationship is also in line with the teaching and life he lived – laying his life down for others. This, in turn, is the model for Christians – in humility considering others better than ourselves. No other ideology or -ism in history has centred this self-giving relationship (not just ‘relationality’) at its heart, and has therefore ever been able to offer as deep and fulfilling vision of identity and fellowship. 

Will I be supporting England, the country of my and my parents’ birth, then? Of course I will. The call to die to yourself and the things that used to define you does not mean I can exist as a Christian without any other cultural framework that makes up my existence in the world. I am not a citizen of ‘nowhere.’ I was born in England, and have lived my life here. I understand certain cultural references, humour, enjoy certain foods. These are not bad things, and indeed create community and shared understanding. From this perspective, I will join with other English men and women to cheer Southgate and his team over the coming weeks. 

But what I will resist is some deeper meaning and identity in my nation where my life and all that is important to me are seen through its lens. My Englishness is there, it has some influence in my life, but ultimately it must be subservient to my identity in Jesus Christ. It is one thing among many that in New Testament language must be ‘put under his feet’. When there is a choice between serving my nation and serving Jesus Christ, I will always choose the later and assume there will be times when this choice is a real one. I will watch this summer’s Euros with members of my church who come from various nations of the world. We will join together without denying our respective nationalities and cultures – as we do every week – but in a manner where these cultures do not get in the way of genuine fellowship as we seek to embody what the Bible speaks of as a ‘new humanity.’ 

Column
Creed
Football
Grace
Sport
8 min read

Manchester City and the surprises of Grace

What a footballing dynasty's dominance tells us about the problems of meritocracy

Graham is the Director of the Centre for Cultural Witness and a former Bishop of Kensington.

A football team wearing a sky blue kit leaps for joy holding a trophy.
Celebrating winning the English Premiership.
Manchester City.

So Manchester City didn’t quite win the double double. Manchester United, against all the odds, spoilt the party and created their own by winning the FA Cup. But City won the Premier League yet again. That makes six times out of the last seven seasons. It would take a brave person to bet against them doing it again next season. Supporters of other teams look on with a mixture of resentment, admiration and envy. Despite losing the Cup Final, Manchester City fans are basking in the time of their lives.

When our team wins, we football fans gloat. Especially over our rivals. We all do it. We assume it means our team is superior, that victory is deserved, that there is some kind of moral credit involved in winning. Football fans are meritocratic to a tee.  

In 2020, Michael Sandel, Harvard Professor of Political Philosophy published The Tyranny of Merit. In the book, he traced the rise of the idea of meritocracy, the notion that if you succeed in life it is to your credit, and if you fail it is your fault. We talk about “going as far as your talents take you”, “getting what you deserve in life” and so on. Speaking from the American context in particular, he argues, it means a belief that we are masters of our own fate, that achievement is to our credit and failure due to our fault.  

He also sheds light on the dark side of meritocracy. The most important factor in whether people voted for Trump or Brexit was educational background. Getting into college or university meant you stood a much better chance of landing a good, well-paid job and rising through the rungs of society. And if you did so you tended to end up more liberal in political and social outlook. If you didn't go to college, you were more likely to stay in manual or blue-collar work, looking at a distance at the educated class of people who ran the government, the economy and the legal system, and feeling they didn't represent you.  

Meritocracy, Sandel argues, generates on the one hand hubris and on the other hand shame. It makes the successful feel proud in their own achievements, looking down with a secret smugness at those who didn't get the big jobs with the big money, and on the other, generates resentment and a sense of shame in those who missed out on the educational and financial gravy train.  

A meritocratic society makes parents more and more obsessive about getting their kids the advantages that will set them up for life. Yet such obsessive parenting for success has so often led to an epidemic of teenage depression and distress. College life becomes increasingly competitive, aiming to build an impressive CV to land the big jobs when you leave university for the big wide world of competition. 

Yet the reality is, he argued, that most of what made for ‘success’ was fairly random and the result of chance. If you happened to be born into an educated family with a reasonable income you are more likely to get the education that would keep you within that class. Without that origin it is much harder to break through the social barriers. Of course, there are plenty of examples of people born into disadvantaged circumstances who rose through the ranks to get good well-paid and high-profile jobs. Yet such stories fit neatly into the meritocratic story, as these people are held up as the poster boys and girls of meritocracy - exemplars of precisely the kind of moral virtue and character that is needed to succeed.

Some would say beautiful brand of football that out-passes and outplays virtually everyone else. 

Aristocracy by contrast, may have contained many flaws and inequalities, but at least the poor didn't feel that their poverty was their fault. We talk about our talents as ‘gifts’, which implies they have been given to us rather than earned by us. If we happen to have a talent for numbers, for writing, an instinct for strategy, reading people well, or managing stress, that is not really to our credit but something we have inherited in our personality. Of course we can and need to develop these skills, but again society has a fairly random way of rewarding certain talents and not others - we pay people skilled at football far more than people similarly skilled at netball, and hedge fund traders far more than nurses.

So what does all this have to do with Manchester City?

In September 2008, Sheikh Mansour Bin Zayed Al Nahyan, a member of the Abu Dhabi royal family, who is currently the vice president and deputy prime minister of the United Arab Emirates, completed the purchase of Manchester City, a club that had finished ninth in the Premier League the season before and was without a trophy in 32 seasons. From that moment they had the financial resources of virtually an entire Arab state at their disposal. Since then, they have spent a net amount of £1.4 billion on transfers. They hired the best manager and the best striker in the world, and play the most finely-tuned, relentless, some would say beautiful brand of football that out-passes and outplays virtually everyone else. In a recent match against Tottenham, they lost their number one goalkeeper Ederson to injury who was then replaced by Stefan Ortaga, who played a blinder and effectively won the league by keeping Tottenham from scoring. Ortega would walk into almost any other Premier League club. City’s strength in depth is such that they could almost turn out two teams that could win the Premier League on their own.

If the mind of Sheikh Mansour had gone in a different direction, Reading fans might have been celebrating a treble by the M4, or Wigan could be playing Real Madrid.

Back in the 2008 season, presumably the group from Abu Dhabi looked at the Premier League table for clubs they might buy, presumably discounting the already successful ones like Manchester United (who won the league that year), Chelsea, Liverpool or Arsenal. Looking just below City, they would have seen Blackburn Rovers in 7th (who had won the league as recently as 1995, Portsmouth in 8th, or a little lower, Middlesborough in 13th or Wigan in 14th. Sunderland, Bolton, Reading, Birmingham and Derby made up the numbers further down the table.

Of these teams, this past season, Portsmouth, Derby, Bolton and Reading played in the third tier of English football, struggling to make ends meet before small crowds against small clubs such as Stevenage, Burton, Fleetwood and Bristol Rovers. Birmingham were relegated into the third tier. None of the others were playing in the Premier League, let alone the Champions League.

Manchester City, by contrast, in their spanking new stadium, fresh from a season where they had won the treble (Premier League, FA Cup and Champions League), were winning the World Club Championship, marching towards another League title, only just missing out on the Champions League on penalties in the semi-final.

Did the rulers of Abu Dhabi consider buying Reading? Or Blackburn Rovers? Or Portsmouth? Whether they actually did or not, in theory they might have done. In other words, picking out Manchester City has a high degree of randomness. If the mind of Sheikh Mansour had gone in a different direction, Reading fans might have been celebrating a treble by the M4, or Wigan could be regularly playing Real Madrid.

Maybe they can teach us the humility of knowing that our success or failure is much less to our credit or fault than we think.

Manchester City is a prime example of the element of randomness in success.  Now of course it's not all random. Many other clubs have spent huge amounts of money but without the success of Manchester City. You have to say their owners know how to run a football club, unlike the shambles of the owners of clubs such as Chelsea or Manchester United in recent times.

Yet there is undoubtedly an element of sheer chance, luck, or to put it in Christian terms, undeserved Grace about it. Manchester City’s being chosen by Abu Dhabi is a strange worldly echo of the Christian doctrine of Election (no - not that election!). This is the idea that in the Bible, God chooses a part out of the whole, for example choosing Humanity out of all the species of animal life on the planet to look after and care for it, choosing Israel out of all the nations of the world to bear the message of God's care and love for that world, and choosing the Church as God’s chosen people, to bear witness to Jesus Christ the Saviour of the world.

The difference in this Christian notion is that election is never for success. God does not choose humanity, Israel or the church so that they can outstrip all the others and bask in their own superiority, even though all three have fallen into the trap of thinking that way many, many times. God chooses them precisely so that they might be a blessing to the rest of the world, the channel through which God desires to pour out his goodness to everyone, the bearers of a message of good news that everyone needs to hear. Election therefore breeds not a sense of superiority, but a deep sense of humility at having received a status that was not earned, undeserved, but that carries great responsibility.

So Manchester City's triumphant progress is perhaps an object lesson for the rest of us, that any success we may have achieved in life, anything we are tempted to boast about, whether privately or publicly, is not as much to our credit as we think. Just as they were plucked from mid-table obscurity to become one of the great teams of recent times, while the likes of Reading and Wigan languish in mediocrity, a large part of any success that may have come our way, is not down to our credit, but derives from a gift, something bestowed on  us, so that we might use whatever good comes our way to raise up others and be a blessing to those who don’t have such fortune.

While Manchester City win everything (and it won’t last, as we Manchester United fans know only too well) maybe they can teach us the humility of knowing that our success or failure is much less to our credit or fault than we think. We can learn generosity to those less fortunate than we are, contentment when things go badly, and gratitude for the grace that we have neither deserved or earned.