The Russia-Ukraine war has been disillusioning in so many respects. It has also brought into the disinfecting sunlight the total capture of the English football Premier League by dodgy global capital.
Earlier this week Russian oligarch Roman Abramovich, owner of Chelsea Football Club and an alleged close associate of Russian President Vladimir Putin, was hit with sanctions by the UK government, freezing all his assets in the country. He had placed the assets of the club in trust a few days before, as the freeze became imminent.
Many apoplectic commentators wondered why it took the government so long, and questioned why sanctions on Abramovich were not imposed long before Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. It’s true that Abramovich’s ownership of Chelsea has long been controversial, but another uncomfortable truth is that if there is anything the English love more than football, it’s money.
The English capital was nicknamed “Londongrad” by the same investigative journalists who have long warned about the alleged laundromat for dirty money that London has become for politically connected Russian oligarchs, as well as “midi-garchs” and billionaires the world over.
With the City of London’s army of professional services firms happily taking fees in return for lending respectability, to structure financial vehicles and real estate empires in the stuccoed lairs of Belgravia, whistle-blowers have long worried that the City has become an enabler of kleptocracy.
The City of London has a special status outside the rest of England. A legendary financial centre, it is one of the world’s largest onshore tax havens, and its financial wizards manifest money from high-concept ideas such as collateralisation and crypto. The City can also spirit money away to satellite networks of offshore jurisdictions via opaque trusts and special purpose vehicles. And all of this financial engineering is perfectly legal, however much the political left protests.
This financial engineering has also seen both the domiciled and non-domiciled uber-wealthy favour London as their playground, where they fritter away what is peanuts to them on trophy assets such as football clubs and mansions in the gated fortresses of Surrey.
Many commentators have also asked why the moral panic over Abramovich now, and why not over the sale in 2021 of Newcastle United FC to the Saudi sovereign wealth fund, shooed through notwithstanding the war in Yemen and the Saudi rulers’ alleged proximity to the murder of journalist Jamal Khashoggi.
But these are not isolated examples. The Premier League is absolutely awash with kompromat cash — whether from predatory private equity or hedge money, gambling dynasties, oil and gas tycoons, less-than-salubrious sovereign owners and their acolytes such as Abramovich, or just nauseatingly entitled feudal overlords. And the clubs have been happy to avert their gaze and hold their noses from the escalating stench emanating from the Prem, as the money rolled in.
It’s a total downer from the magic and inspiration of 2021’s Euros. It’s all become a bit like the Hunger Games — where working-class lads can become superstars, national treasures and rich beyond their wildest dreams, while all the while ultimately remaining the playthings of darker and much, much wealthier forces at work.
The gamification of the Prem has also meant money can outclass talent and hard work as clubs assemble dream teams and top-flight managers with their war chests. The Abramovich era saw Chelsea win every important trophy in global club football, while Manchester City’s grip on the top of the table seems unassailable, with seemingly infinite cashflows bankrolling the Etihad.
Newcastle has soared from near-relegation towards the mid-table under its Saudi owners, while money has totally corrupted Manchester United. But as long as its deep brand equity shifts merch like no tomorrow, the Glazers remain intensely relaxed.
An inquiry is long overdue.
• Dr Masie, a former senior editor of the Financial Mail, is chief strategist at IC Publications in London.
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