The 2026 FIFA World Cup began surrounded by a contradiction that extends far beyond the boundaries of the football pitch.
While FIFA insists on presenting football as a neutral space capable of uniting peoples and nations above political disputes, the tournament hosted by the United States, Canada and Mexico has exposed a different reality: geopolitics continues to determine who can travel, compete and be represented at the world’s largest sporting event.
In the opening weeks of the competition, referees were prevented from entering the United States, accredited professionals were deported, officials encountered visa obstacles, delegations faced immigration-related harassment and supporters had their travel plans disrupted by administrative decisions taken by US authorities.
Perhaps the most symbolic case involved Haiti’s national team. FIFA required the team to remove references to the Battle of Vertières from its kit — the decisive battle of the Haitian Revolution that defeated French colonialism and paved the way for the establishment of the first Black republic in the Americas.
FIFA justified the decision as part of its policy against political expressions. Yet one must ask: since when has the memory of a struggle against slavery and colonial domination become a threat to sport?
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At the same time that it censored an anti-colonial symbol from Haiti, FIFA remained largely silent regarding restrictions imposed by the tournament’s principal host nation.
Somali referee Omar Abdulkadir Artan, widely regarded as one of Africa’s leading football officials, was denied entry to the United States and deported without any convincing public explanation. The controversy became even more serious because FIFA had previously stated that all visa-related issues had been resolved.
This was not an isolated incident.
African delegations reported excessive inspections, delays and discriminatory treatment. The official photographer of Iraq’s national team was denied entry. Players, supporters and accredited personnel also encountered immigration barriers inconsistent with the universal character that the World Cup is supposed to embody.
Iran was among the countries most affected. Fifteen members of its delegation were denied visas, forcing the team to relocate its training base from Arizona to Tijuana, Mexico. The Iranian Football Federation announced that it would file a formal complaint with FIFA, arguing that the restrictions disrupted the team’s preparations and violated the principle of equality among participating nations.
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Palestine was also affected. Jibril Rajoub, president of the Palestinian Football Association, publicly criticised delays in obtaining a visa to participate in official FIFA activities. According to Rajoub, the measure undermines obligations assumed by host countries and compromises the universal character of the world’s premier football tournament.
Faced with these incidents, FIFA’s response has been predictable: immigration matters fall under the jurisdiction of national authorities. The explanation, however, is unconvincing.
When it sees fit, FIFA intervenes, sanctions federations, censors expressions, regulates uniforms and imposes strict standards of conduct. Yet when restrictions originate from a major Western power, institutional neutrality suddenly becomes passivity.
Such selectivity is not new.
For years, human rights organisations have denounced the participation of Israeli clubs based in settlements built in occupied Palestinian territory, settlements considered illegal under numerous United Nations resolutions. Nevertheless, those clubs continue to operate within the Israeli football system without any meaningful action from FIFA.
The same silence surrounds other colonial situations. Morocco competes normally in international football while maintaining its occupation of most of Western Sahara since 1975. The UN-promised referendum on self-determination has never taken place, and the Sahrawi people remain deprived of a right recognised by international law.
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These cases demonstrate that so-called sporting neutrality often functions as a political instrument. It is applied rigorously when it comes to controlling the symbols, memories and voices of peripheral peoples, yet becomes remarkably flexible when the interests of major powers or their strategic allies are involved.
Football has never been separate from politics. World Cups have always reflected power struggles, national identities, international conflicts and historical transformations. The problem is not acknowledging this reality. The problem arises when the language of neutrality is used to silence peoples who challenge the dominant order while protecting those who violate rights in the name of power.
From Haiti to Iran, from Palestine to Somalia, from Iraq to Western Sahara, the 2026 World Cup reveals a pattern that is increasingly difficult to ignore. Peoples marked by colonialism, occupation, sanctions and international marginalisation face obstacles that are not imposed equally on everyone.
If FIFA intends to continue claiming that football unites the world, it must demonstrate that its principles apply equally to all peoples and nations.
Otherwise, this World Cup may be remembered not only for its goals and trophies, but also as the tournament in which the universality of sport was subordinated to borders, selective restrictions and the geopolitics of dominant powers.
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The views expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial policy of Middle East Monitor.
