“We are committed to using the power of football to bring people together. The message football can convey now is one of peace and unity. FIFA cannot solve geopolitical problems, but it can promote football by harnessing its unifying, educational, cultural and humanitarian values.”
With these words, FIFA President Gianni Infantino mounted his latest defence of “Israel”, hinting—if only indirectly—that excluding it from international competitions is a red line, and invoking the familiar claim that “sport should unite, not divide”.
Yet behind the polished language lies a stark reality. Once again, FIFA stands at the centre of a storm over its blatant double standards: swift and iron-fisted when the file concerns Russia or South Africa, and conspicuously absent when the same standards would apply to “Israel”. The obvious question follows: why is one state shielded while another is punished without hesitation?
FIFA as a Legitimising Tool
On the surface, football is sold as a bridge between people—a symbol of hope and unity. But take one step deeper, and the scent of politics and interests seeps through the slogans. The history of football’s top governing body reveals not a guardian of the game, but a mechanism that confers legitimacy on the oppressor, in tune with the wider imperial world order.
Since its 1904 founding by European powers, FIFA has never been merely a sporting authority. It helped sanctify colonial projects and keep the Global South tethered to the West. Instead of becoming an equaliser, “the beautiful game” mirrored the contradictions of a “rules-based international order” that channels wealth and power from south to north.
In March 1976, then-FIFA President João Havelange—a man with close ties to Brazil’s military rulers—declared that Argentina was “more ready than ever” to host the World Cup, just two days after a US-backed coup deposed Isabel Perón, triggering a decade of bloody dictatorship.
More than 30,000 people were kidnapped, tortured, and disappeared under Jorge Videla. None of it impeded FIFA. After the 1978 World Cup in Argentina, FIFA even promoted the tournament’s chief organiser, Vice Admiral Carlos Lacoste, to FIFA Vice-President.
Decades later, the pattern persists—only the geography has changed. “Israel” continues its 2026 World Cup qualifiers, its clubs still play in European competitions as if nothing happened, while FIFA ignores mounting calls to suspend “Israel”—even after a genocidal war, tens of thousands killed, millions starved, and Gaza’s sporting infrastructure reduced to rubble.
Since October 2023, Gaza’s sporting sector has endured catastrophic losses: over 280 sports facilities destroyed and more than 800 Palestinian athletes martyred, including some 370 footballers. Among them: former Olympic star Hani Al-Masdar, killed in a January 2024 airstrike, and legendary goal-scorer Mohammad Barakat, martyred with his family when his home was bombed at the start of Ramadan.
Gaza’s Yarmouk Stadium, once the largest open sports ground (capacity 9,000), was erased—and, worse, used as a detention and torture camp. Shocking images showed dozens of Palestinians, nearly naked, bound and kneeling, tanks encircling the pitch; others were tortured for hours in a place meant for sport.
By May 2024, the only remaining stadium had turned into a shelter for thousands of displaced people. That same month, Infantino announced he would seek “independent legal counsel” regarding the Palestinian FA’s call to sanction “Israel”. Nearly a year and a half on, nothing has happened.
This devastation is no accident. It reflects a systematic policy to crush every facet of Palestinian life—including sport. The scene recalls another page from FIFA’s dark record: in October 1973, US-backed dictator Augusto Pinochet turned Chile’s National Stadium into a prison and torture site. Dozens were killed there.
Two months later, Chile’s national team lined up on the same pitch to face the USSR in a World Cup qualifier. The Soviets refused to play—“the stadium is stained with blood”—but FIFA pressed ahead. Chile scored into an empty net to qualify, while FIFA inspectors fretted only about “the quality of the grass” as prisoners were hidden or shackled in the stands. The question returns: why hasn’t FIFA acted now?
A Bare-faced Political Double Standard
Since the Palestinian FA was admitted in 1998, FIFA has turned a blind eye to the occupation’s violations. For years, the Israeli FA—which FIFA blessed when it rebranded from the Palestine FA upon the 1948 declaration—integrated settlement clubs and hosted matches inside illegal settlements, often with FIFA’s tacit cover, in open breach of FIFA’s own rules barring members from playing on another association’s territory without approval.
FIFA has also ignored the gross abuses in “Israeli” stadiums. Five years ago, The Economist described Beitar Jerusalem as “the most racist club in Israel”, citing chants that called Arab players “terrorists”. Still, FIFA did nothing. When asked in 2017 to act against the Israeli FA, it retreated to the line that it is “neutral in matters of politics and religion”.
That supposed neutrality collapsed at the first serious test: with Russia’s invasion of Ukraine (Feb 2022), FIFA needed only four days to ban Russia from international football—no debate, no path back. European bodies waved this through under the banner of “European values” like peace and human rights.
But those same “values” are quietly set aside for “Israel”, whose war of extermination in Gaza continues—yet it plays on internationally as if nothing happened. The precedent for sporting bans is not new: FIFA barred apartheid South Africa from 1964 until the early 1990s, turning sporting isolation into political isolation, and helping break the regime’s spine.
So, FIFA applies standards rigidly to Russia and to apartheid-era South Africa, but grants “Israel” immunity—even as calls grow across Europe and beyond to exclude its national team and clubs. With crimes in Gaza broadcast live, FIFA replies with boilerplate statements and procedural stalling, a posture that looks less like law and more like political protection.
This isn’t about “unity”; it’s about power. Spain, Italy, Norway and others urged tough sanctions on “Israel”. Even UEFA floated the idea, only to beat a swift retreat. Its president, Aleksander Čeferin, declared the matter “not up for discussion”, repeating objections to “punishing athletes”—a stance that, in effect, blocked any move to exclude “Israel”, in glaring contrast to Russia.
FIFA, for its part, has kept silent, merely forcing “Israel’s” teams to play away from home—often in Serbia or Hungary. As pressure rose—especially after Spain threatened to boycott the World Cup if “Israel” remained—Infantino opened a closed FIFA Council session with another reprise of “peace and unity”, seeking to calm the storm without touching its cause.
What Changed?
The answer lies in the United States, which has declared “Israel is a red line.” Washington’s State Department has warned FIFA and UEFA against even contemplating sanctions—especially with a clear majority forming in Europe to suspend “Israel”.
Behind the diplomatic phrasing stands one name: Donald Trump. He has not only shielded “Israel” politically and militarily, but wrapped it in layers of international legitimacy—and expects FIFA to toe the same line.
Infantino’s closeness to Trump is no secret. The FIFA chief has been a frequent White House visitor; Trump, in turn, has championed FIFA’s biggest project ever: the 2026 World Cup in the US, co-hosted with Mexico and Canada, expanded to 48 teams across 11 US cities—a fusion of sport, politics and commerce.
This relationship now faces strain because “Israel” is in the qualifiers amid growing disquiet from European FAs. The White House has moved to prevent any ban on “Israel”, particularly from the World Cup, in response to calls by UN experts and UEFA members to suspend its membership over the Gaza war.
Israeli reports say Trump intervened personally with Infantino to head off any move towards exclusion, with the spectre of scrapping the tournament, sanctioning FIFA, and even visa restrictions on select officials or states, much as he did to Palestinians at the UN.
For FIFA, the US market is sacrosanct. To keep Washington’s blessing, “Israel” must be protected. European demands evaporate, and calls for sanctions are buried under the rubble of “unity and peace”. When US power and money meet FIFA’s calculus, principles give way.
This raises urgent questions about Trump’s legal and political leverage over World Cup programming—and the deeper question: who actually runs world football—FIFA, or power centres in Washington?
Why Hasn’t FIFA Acted?
FIFA is not acting as a truly independent body. It is enmeshed in Western bureaucracy, pressure and great-power politics. “Israel” enjoys political protection in major Western capitals. FIFA will not take a decision that amounts to an indictment of those capitals themselves.
The contradiction is glaring. Europe roared at Russia—and a full ban followed immediately, in the name of “principles”, because it fit the Western position. When the same cry rose against “Israel”, FIFA rediscovered the rhetoric of “unity”—because banning “Israel” would challenge Washington, Berlin, London and Paris. Justice is applied only when it doesn’t embarrass the West.
A deeper fear lurks: if FIFA bans “Israel”, it opens the door to scrutiny of other crimes—the Iraq invasion, the Yemen war, atrocities in Syria and Afghanistan. A real standard of justice would force FIFA to face the entire world order. Like many international bodies, it is not ready to do so.
Politics and sport are inseparable. FIFA knows it, yet clings to performative neutrality. True neutrality is measured by action, not slogans: either reinstate Russia, or sanction “Israel”. Anything else is a cheap compromise and a hollow pretext.
And as for the oft-repeated “human values”, the phrase rings emptier than ever. If human rights truly mattered, how does FIFA explain granting the 2034 World Cup to Saudi Arabia, a Gulf state with a heavily criticised rights record? Infantino accepted Riyadh’s bid without a blink, offering sports-washing in exchange for money. With Saudi Arabia the sole bidder and billions on the table, FIFA’s “principle” appears to be profit before ethics—reinforcing doubts about the real aims behind tournament hosting.
Name things as they are: FIFA sells deals, not values. It is a corporate behemoth prioritising revenue, while sport and justice sit on the margins. Its credibility is now eroded by glaring hypocrisy that disfigures the game before the world’s supporters.
The Sporting Ban That Haunts
Ask how much sporting bans matter to “Israel”, and the South African precedent becomes instructive. That regime—another settler-colonial project—suffered one of its deepest psychological blows when expelled from international sporting bodies, including the Olympics and cricket (1970). The heaviest strike came in 1981 when the Springboks were kicked out of the International Rugby Board, rugby being the core of white national identity.
That decision followed mass popular pressure, notably from the HART movement (“Halt All Racist Tours”), which disrupted rugby fixtures in New Zealand until the sport’s authorities grasped that playing with an apartheid regime had become a social and political liability. South Africa became a pariah, its public tasting shame instead of pride.
Today, a similar horizon looms for “Israel”, after more than two years of genocidal war, helped by Western silence or complicity. The threat does not come from FIFA’s offices alone—but from the pitches themselves. From Spain to Ireland to Iceland, popular protests are breaking the wall.
Even Eurovision, despite its entertainment veneer, triggered a diplomatic crisis as European countries threatened to withdraw if “Israel” competed. It may seem trivial, but it is not—for a society that clings to such stages as a symbol of “national pride” amid war.
The summer’s La Vuelta protests in Spain sent a sharper signal when the race was disrupted over an Israeli team’s participation. This was more than a fleeting demonstration: a clear sign that popular pressure could extend to expelling “Israel” from European sport, including football, the most powerful shaper of public mood—putting “Israel” under an unprecedented sporting microscope.
The danger is even greater in European football and basketball, both of which hold deep sway over the “Israeli” street. The mere suggestion of expelling teams like Maccabi Tel Aviv from elite tournaments sparks existential anxiety for the authorities.
Italy took an unprecedented step when its national coaches’ association formally demanded banning “Israel” from the World Cup, while Spain’s sports minister called openly to end the double standard that punished Russia swiftly yet leaves “Israel” untouched.
Crucially, European stadiums—despite UEFA’s attempts to police expression—are becoming platforms of resistance. Tens of thousands now wave Palestinian flags and chant against “Israel” each week. From the stands upwards, grassroots pressure is knocking on the doors of hesitant sports bureaucracies. As with South Africa, playing with a colonial apartheid project is increasingly seen as normalising a crime. Sport cannot be “neutral” while genocide is televised.
The Fracture That Worries “Israel”
This pressure does not come only from rights groups and activists. Figures at football’s core are breaking the silence, making it harder for international bureaucracies to collude. Over the past year, we have seen high-profile voices speak plainly: English legend-turned-broadcaster Gary Lineker faced BBC exclusion simply for supporting calls to ban “Israel”. Eric Cantona declared, “We cannot allow this genocide to pass unpunished. The time for suspension has come.” Pep Guardiola urged audiences to reject silence in the face of children being killed in Gaza.
Then came the image that ignited global outrage: an “Israeli” strike targeted Palestinian footballer Suleiman Al-Obeid—“the Palestinian Pelé”—as he stood in a queue for food in besieged Gaza. Only then did UEFA issue a condolence statement—its first since the war began—though hundreds of Palestinian athletes, coaches and referees had been killed in silence before him.
The response was immediate. Mohamed Salah commented, “Your statement is vague. Who killed him and why?”—placing FIFA and UEFA in front of a direct moral question that cannot be dodged. This is no longer a fringe issue; it is an institutional crisis inside world sport. The longer “Israel” competes while documented atrocities continue, the deeper the stain on FIFA’s and UEFA’s legitimacy.
The deeper meaning reaches “Israel’s” psychology. Settler regimes—South Africa taught us—bank part of their internal legitimacy on being accepted and “of the West.” If Israeli society finds itself rejected in global football arenas, the message is clear: its policies have become a moral burden, and the world will no longer normalise crimes behind sporting slogans.
This is precisely what happened to apartheid South Africa. The sporting ban was not a symbolic slap; it was a psychological wound. Stars were barred from the World Cup and Olympics; fans no longer saw their flag on the big stage. The outcome was humiliation and a shock to the regime’s social base.
Today, “Israel” faces a similar prospect—even as FIFA and UEFA stall behind “further legal studies” and “complexities”. When UEFA’s president was asked, “Why was Russia banned but not Israel?” and he replied, “A legitimate question,” it signalled a crack. When the man at the top admits the question is legitimate, the “red line” protecting “Israel” has begun to erode.
A ban may not come tomorrow. But football is run from below as much as from above—and “Israel” knows it. Hence the growing anxiety. Just as South Africa’s sporting fall prefigured the end of apartheid, decisions once unthinkable could soon become the beginning of the end for normalising this settler-colonial project.
If and when that day comes, “Israel” will suffer not just a military image crisis, but a cultural and sporting one—a rupture in the very identity it uses to project Western belonging. A suspension by FIFA or UEFA would be more than a “sporting penalty”; it would be a psychological earthquake cutting to the heart of Israeli society—just as rugby’s expulsion shook apartheid supporters in South Africa.
Until Infantino finds the courage to act consistently, the beautiful game will remain captive to ugly double standards—trapped between empty slogans and political-economic interests. While FIFA waves the flag of “unity and peace”, the ground truth reveals a world where principles are traded, and football is wielded as a tool of power rather than a language of justice and unity.
FIFA Between Sport and Power: The Fraud of “Neutrality”
Since the Palestinian FA’s admission in 1998, FIFA has overlooked the occupation’s practices. For years, the Israeli FA—rebranded from the Palestine FA in 1948—has embedded clubs in illegal settlements, with fixtures often staged there under FIFA’s own umbrella, in open violation of the rules that prohibit members from playing on another association’s land without consent.
FIFA has long ignored stadium-level violations. The Economist once called Beitar Jerusalem “the most racist club in Israel,” noting crowds that labelled Arab players “terrorists.” Still, FIFA did nothing. When pressed in 2017 to act, it simply claimed “neutrality” on politics and religion.
That veneer shattered in February 2022: FIFA took four days to bar Russia from world football—no debate. With “Israel”, we are fed “legal studies” and “complexities.” The deeper fear is clear: sanctioning “Israel” would invite scrutiny of other wars and occupations—Iraq, Yemen, Syria, Afghanistan—forcing FIFA to confront the global system itself.
Even inside the sporting establishment, the rift is widening. Lineker was sidelined for supporting a ban; Cantona called openly for suspension; Guardiola urged people not to be silent about children killed in Gaza. When Suleiman Al-Obeid was assassinated in a food queue, UEFA finally issued a mealy-mouthed condolence—answered by Mohamed Salah’s cutting question: “Who killed him—and why?”
European terraces have become arenas of resistance. Palestinian flags rise; anti-Israel” chants roll. Pressure from below is now pounding the doors above. For many, “Israel’s” continued participation amid documented genocide is an indelible stain that FIFA and UEFA cannot hide forever.
This is no “sports issue”. It is a clash between performative neutrality and real power, between polished imagery and material complicity. If FIFA or UEFA heeds the pressure and imposes a real ban, it will not be a “sporting decision” alone—it will be a moral earthquake proving that sport is built on one principle: equal rules applied equally, not selective interpretations that flatter power.
