open polity

Tag: football

  • A Global Game In A Divided Nation: The Politics Of The 2026 FIFA World Cup

    A Global Game In A Divided Nation: The Politics Of The 2026 FIFA World Cup

    When it was announced that the United States would host the 2026 FIFA World Cup alongside Canada and Mexico, many football fans were particularly enthused because the previous two tournaments were hosted by Russia and Qatar, countries whose human-rights records and governancehad drawn intense scrutiny. 

    The tournament went ahead in 2018 despite Russia annexing Crimea four years earlier. Russia also stood accused of cyber attacks, meddling in Western elections and carrying out the Novichok nerve agent attack in Salisbury. In 2022, Qatar’s hosting of the World Cup was heavily criticised because of the country’s alleged violations of human rights, and specifically migrant worker rights. Also, in Qatar, homosexual acts are illegal because they are considered immoral under Islamic Sharia law, and so LGBTQ+ visitors faced significant risks of arrest and persecution. 

    The United States bid, therefore, looked like a breath of fresh air, at least on the surface. The United States is widely perceived as a Liberal democracy with constitutional protections of free speech, civil rights and press freedom. It is seen as a significantly more tolerant society than Russia and Qatar, with progress in rights for women and LGBTQ+ people. Given that it was a joint bid with Canada and Mexico, it also symbolised regional cooperation.

    However, recent events under the current Trump administration have highlighted that the United States’ commitment to these democratic ideals is facing significant strain. Some have argued that the US is slipping into authoritarianism. Consequently, just like the previous two World Cups, politics and morality have come to dominate the conversation. Circumstances off the pitch rather than on the pitch appear to be the main topic of discussion, something that FIFA, football’s global governing organisation, won’t be too pleased about.

    FIFA has long insisted that football should be divorced from politics. Historically, players have been prohibited and discouraged from expressing their political opinions, and host countries have been told that their domestic politics do not concern world football. Political protest has not been tolerated. However, FIFA was forced to shift this entrenched position after the murder of George Floyd in the US in May 2020, which sparked a global movement for racial justice and equality. FIFA embraced inclusiveness and equality as new principles, endorsing anti-racism campaigns, advancing women’s football and signalling support for diversity and LGBTQ+ rights.

    Given that US President Donald Trump and his administration have, on several occasions, been accused of violating these principles, FIFA President Infantino’s continued support for Trump raises serious questions about the organisation’s authenticity. Rather than demonstrating the moral leadership it claims to embrace, FIFA appears inconsistent. On the one hand, they champion progressive politics, but on the other, they award a ‘peace prize’ to a political leader who has a record on human rights and democratic norms that contradict ideas of ‘peace’.

    Ultimately, this demonstrates that the separation between football and politics is becoming increasingly untenable. Extortionate ticket prices alongside Trump’s domestic and foreign policy have only reinforced this. The political climate in which the World Cup is set to take place has become impossible to ignore. The idea that football can exist in a vacuum, untouched by its surrounding context, appears more aspirational than realistic. The United States is currently experiencing deep political polarisation, under a President who has faced accusations of racism, threatened military action against a European ally, been accused of violating international law, imposed entry bans affecting supporters of competing nations, and overseen a violent immigration crackdown, which has resulted in the killing of two Americans by federal agents in Minneapolis.

    It is no surprise, therefore, that there have been increasing calls to boycott the 2026 World Cup. The German football federation vice-president, Oke Göttlich, told the Hamburger Morgenpost, “The time has definitely come to seriously consider and discuss” a boycott of the 2026 World Cup. In January, a motion signed by more than two dozen left-leaning MP’s in the UK’s Parliament called on FIFA to mandate the exclusion of the U.S. national team from the tournament along similar grounds to its barring Russia, arguing that the Trump administration’s “conduct undermines the rules-based international order.” 

    A boycott at this stage is unlikely, especially considering that there was no large-scale or institutional action in 2022 despite significant uproar and criticism of Qatar. However, it is still worth revisiting the specific reasons why a boycott of this year’s tournament would be understandable. Firstly, the extortionate ticket prices have inhibited many fans from attending the tournament. When ticket details were announced in December 2025, it was revealed that the cheapest tickets for the final would cost over £3,000, with total costs to follow a team for nine games potentially exceeding £5,000.

    Whilst these prices are the norm for major sporting events in the US, in Europe, this is unheard of. Many European fans believe FIFA have changed their priorities. Rather than catering to loyal supporters, the pricing strategy seems aimed at maximising revenue from affluent consumers and corporate sponsors. Football fans from other nations do not even have to worry about expensive tickets, as they have been banned from attending the tournament altogether due to Donald Trump’s robust immigration policies. 

    In December last year, the Trump Administration announced a range of travel restrictions on dozens of countries, including Senegal, the Ivory Coast, Iran, and Haiti, which all have qualifying teams. A full ban was imposed on Haiti and Iran, meaning fans will not be able to attend matches held in the US. Ivory Coast and AFCON champions Senegal also have partial travel restrictions. The State Department said a Fifa Pass appointment does not allow people “who are otherwise not eligible” to be issued a visa, meaning fans from those four countries appear unlikely to be able to travel to the US for this summer’s tournament. This is, ultimately, a World Cup where the whole world is not welcome.

    And in more ways than one. Donald Trump’s recent action of reposting a racist video depicting Barack and Michelle Obama as apes reinforces the idea that certain groups of people are not welcome in America and, consequently, at the World Cup. The dehumanisation of black people in this way is something that has occurred for hundreds of years. White supremacists use it to justify slavery and continue to use it to characterise black people as inferior.  Whilst the President has attempted to downplay this recent action, its significance cannot be ignored. When a president or major political figure circulates or endorses imagery that compares Black people to animals, it normalises racism for the public. It legitimises abuse from fans, and it tells players, “Your humanity is conditional”. With the World Cup just months away, this does not send a positive message.

    Calls for a boycott of the tournament have also followed the fatal incidents involving the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) and the Trump administration’s intensified immigration crackdown. High-profile incidents, such as the fatal shootings of Renée Good and Alex Pretti by ICE agents, have fuelled widespread outrage and heightened fears among fans and visitors about safety and human rights violations. 

    Despite video evidence showing otherwise, senior governmental figures claimed that Renee Good and Alex Pretti were “domestic terrorists”. This blatant disregard for the truth by the Trump administration is dangerous because it normalises the spread of misinformation. Commentators have argued that a country where safety is under threat from federal violence on the streets is not fit to stage the world’s biggest sporting event.

    Trump’s foreign policy has also led to calls for a boycott. At the beginning of the year, he carried out a controversial military operation in Venezuela, which resulted in the capture of Nicolás Maduro and his wife, Cilia Flores. Following this, President Trump renewed calls for the US takeover of Greenland. This was of particular concern given Greenland is an autonomous territory within the Kingdom of Denmark, who are a European ally of the US. This raised questions about the future of NATO and the rules-based international system that has facilitated global cooperation since the end of World War II.  

    As recently as Saturday, the US attacked Iran as part of a joint, ongoing operation with Israel, sparking retaliatory strikes across the Middle East. This conflict has raised questions about Iran’s participation in the tournament. The Iran Football Federation has reportedly threatened to withdraw from the 2026 FIFA World Cup. 

    For so long, the United States has presented itself as a global champion of democracy, of freedom, of human rights. But recent events suggest the opposite is true. We are witnessing what increasingly resembles the very regimes America claims to liberate the world from. Initially, a World Cup hosted in the United States, following tournaments in Qatar and Russia, appeared to signal a return to a more politically uncontroversial setting. However, it is clear now that this is not the case. Deep political polarisation, contentious foreign policy decisions, and mounting criticism of the current administration have complicated the narrative, raising questions about whether this World Cup will escape the political scrutiny that overshadowed previous tournaments.

  • Opinion: Vinícius Júnior And The Fight Against Racism In Football

    Opinion: Vinícius Júnior And The Fight Against Racism In Football

    There is and never will be any justification for racist abuse towards black people in society. Often dubbed the beautiful game, football brings millions of people together in celebration of a shared love. Yet its beauty has always existed alongside something deeply uncomfortable. Like most things, football is a microcosm of society; even the beautiful game is plagued by political, social, and cultural tensions that create division and conflict. Despite football being a global and diverse sport, racism and discrimination remain embedded in the sport. This reality was made extremely clear during yesterday’s Champions League clash between Real Madrid and Benfica, where there was a 10-minute stoppage after Vinícius Júnior alleged racist abuse. 

    After scoring a sensational goal that put his team one-nil up, Real Madrid forward Vinicius Junior danced in the corner of the Estádio da Luz. In celebration and in the confrontations that followed, Benfica’s Gianluca Prestianni said something to him while covering his mouth. Vinícius immediately ran to the referee, François Letexier, who stopped the match and crossed his arms to signal that he was activating the anti-racism protocol. A Real Madrid statement said Vinicius told the referee he had been racially abused by the Argentina winger.

    In an interview after the match, Kylian Mbappé, who witnessed the ordeal, stated: “I’m going to explain what happened, Vinícius scores a goal, a goal of the host, he’s going to dance and then people whistle is something normal, and then number 25 has said 5 times monkey to Vinícius, you have to explain it calmly.” All throughout his career, Vinicius Junior has faced racist abuse. It is something that has come to define his football career. In 2021, when he was only 20 years old, fans at Camp Nou were recorded shouting “Macaco” (Monkey) at him near the touchline. 

    It is important to note that this comes just a couple of weeks after Donald Trump, the President of the country holding the 2026 FIFA World Cup, reposted a video depicting the Obamas as Gorillas. Black people have long been compared to animals and primates. This dehumanising trope was used to justify the violent processes of colonialism and slavery. In the nineteenth century, scientific racism promoted the false notion that Black people were biologically inferior and animalistic. 

    The suffering and subjugation of black and brown people seemed less ethically important because, in the eyes of white supremacists, they were animals, not humans. When figures in very powerful positions circulate or amplify that imagery, even indirectly, it normalises and signals to some people that such depictions are acceptable in public discourse. Whilst these two incidents are not directly related, they exist within the same wider cultural context where racism is increasingly becoming once again normalised.

    Vinícius Júnior has consistently been vocal about his experiences of racist abuse. However, whenever he has, a troubling narrative has persisted- that he provokes the racism he receives. This illogical idea that his celebrations and personality invite such horrific treatment completely shifts responsibility away from the perpetrators and onto the victim. This rhetoric resurfaced again yesterday in the commentary by Mark Clattenburg, who said Vinicius Junior hasn’t “made it difficult”, and by Benfica manager José Mourinho, who gave his response to the chaos that had unfolded during the match.  In an interview after the game, Mourinho said, “Vini Jr’s goal should be the main thing about the game. But when you score a goal like that… you should celebrate in a respectful way. But I will be independent; I will not say I believe Prestianni or Vini, I was not there. Prestianni denies it, but I will not pick a side. The biggest legend in this club is Eusebio. This club is not racist.”

    For Mourinho to suggest that, by celebrating in the way that he did, Vinicius Junior provoked a racist reaction is completely unacceptable. Celebrating in front of opposition fans is not something that was invented yesterday; it is a part of the game, and players should not have to suffer racist abuse for it. Given that Mourinho himself is well known for his antagonising celebrations on the touchline, he is the last person who should be dictating to a player how to celebrate. Dancing by the corner-flag should not be seen as controversial. Some of the most iconic goal celebrations have come in this way. By perpetuating this lazy narrative, it diverts attention away from the real issue of racism, which isn’t just a football problem but a wider societal problem. 

    Also, what’s even more outrageous is Mourinho saying the club cannot be racist because their biggest legend is a black player. It’s the sporting equivalent of saying, “I can’t be racist, I have Black friends.” Just because an iconic black figure has been celebrated and elevated does not mean that discriminatory behavior, biased structures, or the lived experiences of other players and fans have been completely erased. Benfica players and fans are not immune to racism simply because they have a statue of a black player outside of their stadium. Ultimately,  representation at the top does not automatically equal equality throughout the institution. Admiration for an exceptional individual does not dismantle bias. In fact, in some instances, it perpetuates bias. 

    This is because if that player fits the mold of what is “acceptable”-being humble, hardworking, and quiet- they are celebrated, and the underlying structures that allow discrimination to persist go unchallenged. Meanwhile, Black players like Vinícius Júnior, who are outspoken and expressive, are judged more harshly and subjected to abuse. Former Manchester United midfielder Paul Pogba was treated in a similar way, particularly from sections of the British media, for being different and outspoken. 

    He was often compared to N’Golo Kanté for his actions off the pitch as well as on the pitch. The difference between the two players fundamentally lies in how closely they conformed to socially comfortable and acceptable stereotypes. Kanté was often portrayed as humble and uncontroversial. His reserved personality and lack of public political statements contributed to a media image that was “acceptable” and non-threatening to mainstream audiences. The difference in the reception of these players highlighted that black athletes are more readily celebrated when they fit a narrow mold of quiet excellence rather than being outspoken and different. This could not be clearer today when we look at how Vini is treated.

    In recent years, there have been several anti racism campaigns by football’s governing bodies, but it is evident that more needs to be done. Punishments for racist abuse need to be stricter, and more education is needed. It is not enough to signal awareness. The deeper cultural attitudes and unconscious biases need to be confronted, and people need to face serious consequences for their actions. Kylian Mbappe has called for Prestianni to be banned from playing in the Champions League. While some may see this as extreme, perhaps this is precisely the kind of punishment that is needed to send a clear message that there is no room for racism in football.

  • From Abuse to Activism: Celta Vigo Tackles Homophobia and Toxic Masculinity in Football

    From Abuse to Activism: Celta Vigo Tackles Homophobia and Toxic Masculinity in Football

    Photo by Wesley Fávero on Unsplash

    During a match against Sevilla in January, Borja Iglesias was the subject of horrific homophobic abuse. Opposition fans weaponised the striker’s creativity by making derogatory references to his painted nails. In a powerful stand against this discrimination, Celta Vigo players and supporters wore nail polish in the following game against Rayo Vallecano to show solidarity with their player and also to demonstrate that homophobia has no place in football. Rainbow flags were also waved in the stands. After the game, Celta posted a picture of their players with their nail art with the caption: “Against Hate, Together.” This is significant because it demonstrates that football clubs can redirect something negative into something positive.

    Iglesias has painted his fingernails for years. In past interviews, he has said that he began doing it to highlight important social issues and stand against injustice and intolerance in society. The fact that something as small and simple as nail polish provoked such hostility highlights just how fragile and archaic ideas of masculinity are within football and, more broadly, sports culture. Since its inception, football has been characterised as a sport for men that demands toughness and aggression. 

    These are traits that are typically viewed as masculine. For decades, these rigid expectations excluded women from playing the game and also men who do not act in accordance with hyper-masculine norms. Football continues to confine anyone who attempts to step outside of the very narrow ideas of masculinity and gender norms. Whilst there have been attempts to eradicate these stereotypes and welcome the LGBTQ+ community, these have mainly been symbolic rather than transformative.

    Campaigns such as rainbow laces are symbolic acts that do well to signal awareness and discussion of the issue, but they often fail to confront the deeper cultural attitudes that are strongly ingrained within fan behaviour, locker room norms and footballing institutions. They have not done enough to change the narratives within football. The positive response of the Celta Vigo supporters and players shows that, in some instances, symbolic acts can become acts of resistance, reshaping the narrative by challenging entrenched ideas of masculinity in football. 

    A week before the Celta Vigo incident, Josh Cavallo, the first man to come out as gay while playing elite football, accused his former club Adelaide United of “internal homophobia” before his exit in 2025.  In a statement, he wrote: “It’s hard to swallow when I realised my own club was homophobic. I was angry because people thought I was sidelined based on injuries, when in reality, it was internal homophobia that kept me on the bench.” A spokesperson for the club said it “categorically rejects” these claims. 

    However, the fact that this was how he was made to feel is significant in itself. It illustrates that even when institutions publicly align themselves with inclusion and equality, the internal structures of these institutions prohibit any real progress. It also highlights that homophobia in football is not simply limited to chants in the stands. Football is supposed to be a unifying sport that brings people together, but instead, we still see attempts to keep those who do not confine themselves to traditional ideals of football culture pushed out. 

    The abuse that Borja Iglesias was a victim of only reinforces this. Its institutions and cultures often reproduce the same exclusionary politics taking place in society, showing that sport doesn’t escape politics, it reflects and magnifies it. As football is a microcosm for society, it reflects the wider political and cultural shift which has seen progress stalled for a return back to a more fixed, traditional social order where conformity is rewarded and difference is treated as a threat rather than something to be celebrated. 

    In the past few years, across Europe and America, there has been a significant rise in right-wing populism. Appeals to traditional social norms have marked this. Policies and rhetoric from these growing movements have framed LGBTQ+ rights as a threat. The effect of this has been seen through fan behaviour and institutional hesitation. Recent years have seen backlash to rainbow armbands, hostility toward women’s football gaining legitimacy, and abuse toward players who don’t fit hyper-masculine norms. The rise of the right doesn’t just influence what governments do; it shapes what is socially acceptable, who is celebrated and who is marginalised, on the pitch, in stadiums, and across the global fanbase.

    A cultural shift is unlikely if powerful institutions do not challenge this, and if inclusion continues to be treated as a symbolic performance rather than astructural necessity. Moments like Celta Vigo supporters painting their nails in solidarity show that progressive politics is still an option. Until governing bodies and institutions move beyond risk-avoidance, progress will continue to be uneven and vulnerable to backlash. 

    Imani Adesanya