When Brazil won the right to host this year’s football World Cup and the 2016 Olympic Games, the then President, Luis Inacio Lula da Silva, claimed with tears in his eyes that Brazil was at last being recognised as a “first class country”. The 21st Century would belong to Brazil, he said.
He had some cause to be triumphant. The economy was booming, his charisma had turned Brazil into a diplomatic powerhouse and he was dealing with the country’s shocking rates of inequality. Thanks to a policy of cash handouts to mothers and aggressive raising of the minimum wage, some 40 million Brazilians have been lifted out of poverty into a new middle class.
The fortunes of football teams rise and fall, so the significance Brazil’s crashing out of the tournament on Tuesday at the hands of Germany should not be exaggerated. But still, it is a good opportunity to take a snapshot of the changing fortunes and faces of these two countries.
Superficially they have little in common. Brazil is the ultimate ethnic melting pot, made up of Europeans, Africans, Amerindians, Japanese and peoples of the Middle East. Germany, by contrast, for decades insisted it was not a country of immigration, while the numbers of what were called “guest workers” from Turkey, Yugoslavia and southern Europe rose inexorably. The German chancellor, Angela Merkel, declared as recently as 2010 that multiculturalism had failed utterly, and that all immigrants should integrate into German culture.
For different reasons both countries have elevated football as a defining element of their character. For Brazil, lacking any glorious revolution or war of liberation, football is the nation’s glue. Thanks to natural talent, Brazil is credited with turning the brutal contest invented by the English into the beautiful game.
As for the Germans, the Second World War has made nationalism a taboo subject except on the football pitch. The German Football Association, the DFB, oversees 25,000 clubs. With 6.8 million members, the DFB claims to be the largest sports federation in the world.
Hosting a major sporting event is a harsh test for any country. Reporters look for trouble until the opening ceremony, and they found protesters angry at the $10 billion cost of staging the tournament while roads and schools remained underfunded.
An indication of the limits to the unfinished business of lifting the majority out of poverty came from the city of Belo Horizonte, where Brazil played Germany. According to a 2010 census, no fewer than 97 million Brazilians, or 50.7 per cent of the population, define themselves as having African ancestry. These people were notable by their absence in the sea of white, middle class spectators. Being a member of Lula’s “new middle class” – which could mean earning no more than $400 a month – does not stretch to buying a semi-final ticket.
If Brazil had seemed over confident in recent years, Germany has a long history of angst – about its history, about race and immigration, about whether it should adopt the leadership role in Europe that its economy dictates.
But the country has changed out of all recognition in one important respect. Germany now recognises itself as a country of immigration. Germany is second only to the United States, rising above Australia and Canada, as a destination for immigrants, according to the 34-nation Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD). Migrants rose by a third in 2011-12, yet unlike other European countries, this has not been accompanied by any noticeable rise in anti-immigrant feeling.
Superficially, at least, Germany’s national squad tends to prove that the country is at ease with immigration, with five prominent players who are foreign-born or eligible to play for a foreign country.
Everyone loves a winner, so long as they are winning, therefore, some caveats are in order. When the French squad – known as the “Black, White, Arab” team for its racial diversity – won the World Cup in 1998, it was hailed as proof that France was coming to terms with its colonial heritage of racism. It was not long before the anti-immigrant National Front was riding high in the polls, the national team was portrayed in the media as somehow un-French, and football chiefs were caught discussing how to limit the number of non-white players in the academies.
All is not completely rosy in Germany, of course. The Polish-born stars – Lukas Podolski and Miroslav Klose – do not have to prove their German-ness thanks to being white and Christian. Mesut Özil, a third generation Turkish immigrant who reads a few verses of the Quran before each game, has to choose his words carefully when talking about his identities, saying he combines a Turkish feeling for the ball with German “discipline and attitude”.
As Mrs Merkel has made clear, those of immigrant stock, even if they and their parents were born in Germany, will be judged by their level of integration.
Germany has moved a long way from its old position that nationality was acquired by blood, not birthplace. It is a rare example – perhaps the only one – in Europe of a country that is confident and at ease with itself. This has a lot do with its bubbling economy, which is still providing jobs and sucking in workers. The success of the German team is a separate issue, stemming from decisions taken to rebuild the national squad after its failure to win the World Cup at home in 2006. Brazil will have to follow the same course, recognising that natural talent will only take you so far.
As for becoming Lula’s “first class country”, Brazil will need to take tough decisions on its economy and its social problems, particularly corruption and the legacy of crime in the favelas. But those will have to wait until after the October elections, where Lula’s successor, Dilma Rousseff, is running for a second term. She had hoped for a World Cup boost but instead will be dealing with a hangover.
Alan Philps is a commentator on global affairs
On Twitter: @aphilps