The 2026 World Cup was designed to look like football’s most welcoming global celebration. It expanded from 32 teams to 48, introduced new nations to the sport’s largest stage and spread 104 matches across the United States, Canada and Mexico. FIFA repeatedly presented the tournament as safe, welcoming and inclusive—a competition capable of bringing more countries, cultures and supporters together than any previous edition.
On the pitch, the expanded format delivered many of the moments its organisers had promised. Smaller football nations competed against established powers, unfamiliar flags filled stadiums and millions of people followed teams that had rarely, or never, appeared at a World Cup.
Away from the pitch, however, human rights organisations and fan representatives argued that the promise of inclusion was only partially fulfilled.
The Sport & Rights Alliance said FIFA failed to deliver the “most inclusive” World Cup because strict United States immigration and visa policies prevented many supporters, workers and other participants from entering the principal host country. Football Supporters Europe reported serious difficulties for ticket holders from countries including Morocco, Egypt, Jordan, Iraq and Uzbekistan, despite their national teams qualifying for the tournament.
The result was a contradiction at the heart of the competition. More countries were represented on the field, but supporters from some of those countries struggled to reach the stands.
Expansion Created the Appearance of Inclusion
The 48-team format allowed the World Cup to present a powerful image of global representation. Countries that had previously found qualification almost impossible were given a more realistic path to the finals, while established football regions received additional places.
That expansion was not meaningless. For players and supporters from smaller nations, participation carried enormous cultural and emotional importance. Reuters noted that rights groups themselves recognised positive tournament stories, including Haiti’s return to the World Cup after 52 years and Cape Verde’s memorable run. Pride-themed events and the visible presence of rainbow flags also offered evidence that inclusion had not been ignored entirely.
Yet sporting representation is only one part of inclusion.
A tournament cannot be considered fully accessible simply because a national team is permitted to compete. Its supporters must also have a reasonable opportunity to attend, journalists must be able to report and workers must be able to participate safely.
Rights groups argued that the 2026 World Cup performed well on symbolic diversity while falling short on practical access. The competition included more nations but operated within border and immigration systems that did not treat every group of supporters equally.
For fans able to travel freely, the tournament felt international. For those unable to secure visas, it was a global celebration viewed from a distance.
Ticket Holders Still Faced Closed Borders
The most direct criticism concerned supporters who had match tickets but could not obtain permission to enter the United States.
Football Supporters Europe executive director Ronan Evain said his organisation struggled to identify ticket holders from several competing nations who had successfully received visas. He specifically named Morocco, Egypt, Jordan, Iraq and Uzbekistan as countries whose supporters experienced major problems.
The situation exposed the limits of FIFA’s authority. The organisation can sell tickets, approve tournament branding and negotiate hosting agreements, but it cannot independently issue visas or overrule national border authorities.
That legal limitation is important. Immigration decisions belong to governments, not sports governing bodies.
However, rights advocates maintained that FIFA still had a responsibility to anticipate those risks before selecting hosts and promising worldwide access. The organisation had significant leverage during the bidding and planning process, when guarantees could have been negotiated with governments. As the event approached, much of that leverage shifted to federal authorities, local governments and law-enforcement agencies.
By the time visa problems became visible, FIFA could explain that the decisions belonged to national authorities. For excluded supporters, that distinction offered little comfort. They had bought tickets for a tournament marketed as open to the world, only to discover that access to the stadium depended on political and security policies far beyond football.
Some Teams Played Without Their Full Support
The consequences could be seen inside stadiums.
Reuters reported that supporters from some countries, including Senegal, were heavily outnumbered after the United States suspended most visa issuance to their citizens.
This affected more than atmosphere. The World Cup is built around the idea that each qualifying nation brings a community with it. Fans contribute songs, colour, traditions and emotional energy that distinguish international football from club competition.
When one country’s supporters are missing, the match loses part of its identity.
Teams from wealthier nations or countries with easier travel access can arrive to find large sections of the stadium filled with familiar colours. Others may play their most important match in decades before a crowd dominated by neutral spectators or supporters of the opposition.
That imbalance does not determine the result, but it changes the experience. The World Cup is supposed to belong equally to every qualified country. If supporters from certain regions face barriers that others do not, equality exists on the team sheet but not necessarily in the stands.
A Referee’s Exclusion Became a Symbol
One of the tournament’s most striking immigration controversies involved Somali referee Omar Abdulkadir Artan.
Despite holding a valid visa, Artan was denied entry to the United States. The Trump administration said the decision was connected to alleged links with suspected members of terrorist organisations. The incident occurred as FIFA President Gianni Infantino attempted to calm concerns about entry restrictions ahead of the tournament.
The case became symbolic because it involved an officially selected match official rather than an ordinary supporter. FIFA had appointed Artan to participate in the tournament, yet the organisation could not guarantee that he would be admitted to its principal host country.
Supporters and rights groups saw the episode as evidence that valid documents did not always provide certainty. It also raised questions about the level of coordination between FIFA and United States authorities during preparations.
From a government perspective, border officials retained the power to exclude individuals on security grounds. From the perspective of tournament organisers, however, a World Cup referee being unable to enter represented a serious breakdown in planning.
If entry could not be guaranteed for an accredited official, fans from affected countries had reason to doubt how securely their own access was protected.
Immigration Enforcement Created Fear Beyond the Airports
Visa denials were only one area of concern. Human rights groups also warned that aggressive immigration enforcement inside the United States created fear among visiting supporters, workers and local communities.
Amnesty International said the majority of tournament matches were held in a country experiencing what it described as a human rights emergency involving discriminatory immigration policies, mass detention and arbitrary arrests. It warned that the broader political climate threatened the promise of a safe and welcoming tournament.
Human Rights Watch and other organisations called for a temporary halt to Immigration and Customs Enforcement operations connected to World Cup sites. The proposed “ICE Truce” was intended to reduce fear among fans, stadium workers and immigrant communities during the event.
More than 120 civil society organisations issued a travel advisory before the tournament, warning visitors about possible denial of entry, arrest, detention or deportation. Community groups in host cities distributed legal information, organised support networks and prepared residents for potential immigration enforcement near match venues.
United States officials consistently argued that security measures were necessary to protect both residents and visitors. The Department of Homeland Security said federal, state, local and international partners were working to provide a secure environment for players, fans and host communities.
The debate therefore centred on two competing definitions of safety.
For the authorities, safety meant strict security, border screening and immigration enforcement. For rights organisations, those same measures created insecurity for racialised communities, migrants and foreign visitors uncertain about how they might be treated.
Local Communities Were Part of the Tournament Too
World Cup inclusion cannot be measured only by the treatment of international ticket holders. The event also affects people who live and work in host cities.
Hotels, restaurants, transport networks and stadiums depend on thousands of workers, many of whom come from immigrant backgrounds. In Los Angeles, a union representing more than 2,000 hospitality workers at the stadium threatened strike action if immigration agents did not remain away from the venue.
The concern reflected a broader fear that workers could help deliver the tournament while remaining vulnerable to enforcement policies around it.
Host communities also faced questions about policing, protest restrictions, homelessness and access to public space. Major sporting events frequently reshape cities for sponsors, tourists and broadcasters, sometimes pushing local residents away from heavily controlled areas.
The Centre for Sport and Human Rights identified risks involving discrimination against LGBTQ+ people, racialised groups and unhoused communities, alongside concerns about worker exploitation, trafficking, security and access to effective remedies.
These issues complicate FIFA’s inclusive narrative. A tournament may welcome wealthy international visitors while creating anxiety for people living near the stadium. It may celebrate cultural diversity in official advertising while workers from those same communities fear detention or discrimination.
True inclusion requires attention to both groups.
Freedom of Expression Added Another Concern
Rights organisations also raised concerns about peaceful protest and press freedom.
Before the tournament, the Sport & Rights Alliance urged FIFA to work with all three host governments to guarantee access for journalists and protect freedom of expression. It warned that many host committees had not publicly released the human rights plans required to identify and manage local risks.
Amnesty International similarly highlighted restrictions on peaceful assembly across the host countries, with particular concern about the political environment in the United States.
World Cups increasingly operate within tightly controlled commercial zones. Stadium regulations limit unauthorised banners, fan areas are monitored and security authorities may distinguish sharply between celebration and protest.
That creates a difficult question: Can a tournament call itself inclusive while allowing only approved forms of expression?
Supporters do not stop being citizens when they enter a stadium. They may wish to speak about discrimination, war, immigration, labour rights or the policies of FIFA itself.
Organisers have legitimate reasons to prevent violence and protect spectators. But if criticism is treated as a security problem, inclusion becomes conditional. Fans are welcome only when their presence matches the event’s preferred image.
FIFA’s Responsibility Cannot End with Host Selection
FIFA did not create United States immigration law, and it cannot command national governments to admit every ticket holder.
Nevertheless, the organisation selected the hosting arrangement, approved the human rights framework and promoted the event using language of unity and universal access.
That gives FIFA a responsibility to use every available form of leverage.
The Centre for Sport and Human Rights noted that responsibility for the tournament was fragmented among FIFA, three federal governments, 16 host cities, local organising bodies and different levels of law enforcement. FIFA controlled official competition sites, while governments exercised authority over immigration, policing, transport and public spaces.
Fragmentation may explain inconsistent protection, but it does not remove accountability.
When every institution claims limited control, affected people can struggle to identify who is responsible. FIFA may point toward governments, governments may cite security law, cities may rely on federal agencies and sponsors may describe themselves as commercial partners with no operational power.
Human rights groups challenged that cycle. They argued that each institution had influence and therefore shared responsibility.
FIFA could have demanded stronger entry guarantees during host negotiations. Host governments could have created clearer procedures for accredited participants and ticket holders. Cities could have implemented transparent protest and policing policies. Sponsors could have used their financial influence to press for better protections.
Instead, advocates said many problems were acknowledged only after the tournament had begun.
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