Paul Gardner IFAB not fit for purpose
Not a spectacular year, 1883.
Karl Marx died; Mussolini was born. Pinocchio and Treasure Island were published. In the USA, the Brooklyn Bridge opened.
But in London, for supporters of the increasingly popular sport of football, there was a happening that looked to have great significance: the formation of IFAB, the International Football Association Board, marking the sport’s arrival as an international force.
Except, it didn’t really. IFAB was fraudulently named. It was formed as the body responsible for the sport’s rules, which it pompously called laws. It had four representatives, from England, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland.
Four regions of the same sovereign country, the United Kingdom: nothing the least bit international about that. IFAB was simply an inter-regional panel trying to make sure that everyone who played football in the UK was using the same rules.
That task was already largely complete by 1878, when a uniform code was published. In 1891 came the definitive rulebook and with it a fundamental change in IFAB. From being a pro-active group devoted to constant rule tweaking to keep the rules up-to-date and ensure they were producing the sport that its founders envisaged, IFAB came to believe that the rules were now carved in stone.
Slowly, IFAB sank into torpor. From 1891 to 2014, it dawdled along, staging just one meeting a year, and keeping rule changes to a minimum.
What looked like a big change followed the formation of FIFA in 1904. The UK joined in 1906, and in 1913 FIFA was allowed representation on IFAB, thus making it genuinely international. England and Scotland, plus minnows Wales and Northern Ireland, kept their places on the board, while FIFA was allocated four representatives.
This was a structure – a disastrously inadequate one – that would survive for another 100 years. In reality, very little had changed. Serious existing faults were perpetuated: among FIFA’s delegates there was never a guarantee that anyone from South America would have a place. Even worse, there was no permanent place for a referee or ex-referee among IFAB’s eight voting members. I once asked a FIFA press officer about that and was told:
“One of the four FIFA members will usually be the chairman of the Referees’ Committee.” That casual “usually” seemed to affirm that FIFA, which held the casting vote, was satisfied with this torpid status quo. Inevitably, IFAB became increasingly isolated from the realities of the game. When changes were made, they were often years late in arriving.
Amazingly, IFAB continued to use, in the rulebook, the Victorian word “ungentlemanly” right up until 1997 when it was replaced by “unsportsmanlike.” Twenty years later, in 2017, IFAB realised that players no longer wore “stockings”, and the word “socks” at last entered the rulebook.
IFAB’s attitude of remote superiority was doubly damaging, because it encouraged a similar mindset in the people responsible
Inevitably, IFAB became increasingly isolated from the realities of the game. When changes were made, they were often years late in arriving
for administering its rules: the referees.
The idea that the referee was a special being, almost beyond criticism, was there from the start. In its own “History of the Laws of Association Football,” FIFA asserted that, way back in 1896 when the referee was given the power to directly punish players (rather than having to wait for an appeal from the victimised team) he “was under no necessity to explain his decision, nor would he be a party to any argument over one.”
I have long been an advocate of referee signals – an officially approved set of signals that referees would be required to use to identify each call that they make.
Over the past 40 years I have asked scores of referees – from many countries, from every level of the game – for their opinions. I cannot recall a single one who thought mandatory signals were a good idea.
All of them preferred to act covertly. That notion – that referees can operate without revealing what they’re up to – has taken solid root in the sport.
To make sure there is no backsliding, referees get occasional reminders. A 1976 FIFA Memorandum made it quite clear that signals were to be avoided: “It is not the duty of the referee nor is it a useful function to explain his decisions to the players or spectators. Any attempt to do so can lead to confusion, uncertainty, and delay.”
By that time a few signals had been granted official status. The 1976 rulebook included photographs of a referee using them. There were just seven, five of which simply required the referee to point with outstretched arm. It was an obviously grudging and feeble attempt to meet a real need.
By 2012, IFAB’s devotion to inactivity could no longer be ignored. A major reform begun. The reformers, we are told, considered abolishing IFAB but decided to leave it intact for “historical” reasons. Not a good decision. That football’s rules, in a time of changing attitudes and rapid advances in technology, should continue to be subject to the slow-moving conservatism of IFAB and to secretive referees is deplorable.
FIFA now has two panels of experts to provide technical and presumably up-to-date advice. But there is still only one meeting a year, and Wales and Northern Ireland still have permanent positions of power when it comes to rule-making. We are left to ponder: the opinions of the expert panellists must be of more value than those of the IFAB members – so why not let those experts vote on rule changes?
Having barely escaped the winds of change, the embattled IFAB now faces another threat to its somnolent Rip-van-Winkle existence: the arrival of technology in the shape of VAR.
In next month’s issue, I’ll take a look at the impact of VAR on IFAB and on the sport, and zero in on football
– and IFAB’s – biggest blunder.