Welcome to Sports Politika, a media venture founded by award-winning investigative journalist Karim Zidan that strives to help you understand how sports and politics shape the world around us. My mission is to offer an independent platform for accessible journalism that raises awareness and empowers understanding.

If you share this vision, please consider supporting my work by joining becoming a paid subscriber or by pre-ordering my new book, THE ULTIMATE STRONGMEN.

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Shortly after Lionel Messi scored a hat trick to complete Argentina’s 3-0 victory against Algeria at the start of the 2026 World Cup, an Algerian sports analyst blamed the “Jewish lobby” for protecting the world’s greatest football player.

“This lobby controls the world, they run it however they want as if they were the mafia,” said analyst Mustafa Mazzouzi, who blamed the lobby for the referee’s controversial decision not to award Messi a red card for a blatant studs-up challenge on an Algerian opponent’s calf. “[FIFA President Gianni] Infantino does not wish us well” He added, “We have political stances regarding Western Sahara and the Palestinian issue so they don’t wish us to do well.”

As Argentina progressed through the tournament, the conspiracy theories followed. There was the controversial disallowed goal for Egypt in the Round of 16 that resulted in a narrow 3-2 victory for Argentina, and a VAR decision that led to a red card in the quarterfinal against Switzerland. Then there is the fact that the Argentina football federation (AFA) and its president are being investigated by the FBI for possible money laundering. So with each win, accusations of a Zionist conspiracy gathered more support. Some claimed that Messi himself was a Zionist, while others pointed to the 39-year-old’s friendly relationship with Israel.

In July 2013, Messi visited Israel with Barcelona FC, the Spanish club where he spent the vast majority of his professional career. The team visited the Western Wall, one of the holiest sites in Judaism, and posed for photos with state officials like prime minister Benjamin Netanyahu.

In 2018, Argentina canceled a friendly match against Israel after protests from the Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions (BDS) movement. Jibril Rajoub, the president of the Palestinian Football Association, also protested by calling on supporters to burn Messi jerseys if Argentina went ahead with the match. He was subsequently suspended for a year by FIFA.

Messi has since played several matches in Israel: a 2019 friendly with the Argentine squad and twice with Paris Saint-Germain in 2022. Outside of a three-year brand ambassador contract with Israeli AI firm OrCam, his personal interactions with Israel have been minimal. Nevertheless, critics persisted. The fact that Messi had never spoken out in favour of Israel, or ever announced himself as a Zionist, didn’t seem to matter. What mattered was the perception that Messi was allowing Israel, a state that had killed well over 2,000 Palestinian civilians in the three Gaza conflicts (2008-09, 2012, 2014) during the time he began visiting the country, to capitalize on his image—and the soft power that comes with it—for political gain.

In a piece for Newlines Magazine, Argentine professor Pablo Alabarces argued that, unlike some other superstar athletes, Messi “holds no political opinions.” It is a fair assessment, especially when limited to verbal and written statements. However, this does not mean that Messi isn’t allowing his personal brand to be co-opted by those with political interests.

In 2023, I co-authored a story with the excellent Tariq Panja for The New York Times, in which we revealed the details of Lionel’s Messi’s then-ongoing partnership with Saudi Arabia’s tourism authority. His contract included a clause stating that Messi could not say anything that may “tarnish” Saudi Arabia, a country with an atrocious human rights record.

Messi’s commercial deal with Saudi’s Tourism Authority was worth approximately $25m over three years. He signed his tourism deal in January 2021 but the partnership was not officially announced until May 2022, when Saudi officials unveiled him as a tourism ambassador during a visit to Jeddah. His obligations for the duration of the contract included tourism campaigns, social media posts, charity appearances, and all-expenses-paid vacations. In one of his contracted visits, Messi was accompanied by his wife and children, who were photographed participating in a variety of family activities: petting horses, playing traditional board games, and sitting with a craft artist while holding a woven hat.

Given that Messi is one of the most popular athletes on the planet, his continued willingness to promote Saudi Arabia is a significant boon, as the kingdom has faced widespread criticism for its human rights record. The kingdom has come under scrutiny for the murder of journalist Jamal Khashoggi, as well as its suppression of freedom of expression, with authorities cracking down on dissent, imprisoning activists and intellectuals advocating for reforms.

Here’s the thing: Messi didn’t need the money. In 2022—the same year he began making visits to Saudi—he made $122 million through salary and sponsorship deals, making him the second highest paid athlete in the world at the time. This was an intentional decision to tie his personal brand to an authoritarian regime with big ambitions.

In 2023, Messi joined Inter Miami as the highest-profile signing in Major League Soccer history. Less than two years later, he captained his side to a victory against the Vancouver Whitecaps to claim the MLS title. A few months later, Messi and his team were honoured at the White House in a ceremony hosted by U.S. President Donald Trump.

Messi once again did not speak but that did not stop Trump from boasting about his country’s ongoing war against Iran. “The United States military, together with the wonderful Israeli partners, continues to totally demolish the enemy, far ahead of schedule and at levels that people have never seen before,” ⁠Trump said, as Messi and his team applauded.

Unlike Argentina’s preceding superstar icon Diego Maradona, who championed left wing politics in Latin America, Messi has chosen the path of political neutrality. This doesn’t necessarily mean that Messi, nor his supporters, lean more conservative. In fact, according to a survey of more than 10,000 people conducted by the Nanyang Technological University in Singapore found that people who identified as more liberal tended to favour Messi, while those who viewed themself as conservatives identified with his arch rival Cristiano Ronaldo. Nevertheless, Messi continues to avoid saying anything political, occasionally favouring vague statements about inequality and wanting what is best for his country.

This may be for the best, as Argentina’s far-right president Javier Milei has also sought to boost his own popularity by aligning himself with Messi.

Seizing on the criticism from the media and political opponents that Messi had helped legitimize Trump, Milei declared: “If you mess with Messi, you mess with us all.”

Sports Politika is a media platform dedicated to the intersection of sports, power and politics. If you like what you see, upgrade to a paid subscription (or gift a subscription if you already have your own). We would appreciate if you could also like the post and let us know what you think in the comment section below.

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With two games remaining, the final whistle is set to blow on the 2026 World Cup.

According to FIFA, its global showpiece was an unprecedented success, bringing in record-breaking revenues, (some) sold-out stadiums, and produced some heartwarming stories like debutants Cape Verde’s journey to the knockout stage of the tournament. 4.6 million fans from over 210 countries attended group stage matches, surpassing the all-time attendance record of 3.5 million set at the 1994 World Cup.

Yet beyond the record crowds and moments of collective joy, the World Cup leaves behind a legacy of erasure, exclusion, and political interference. From fans and officials being denied entry into the United States, ICE arrests taking place out of sight from stadiums, and questions about FIFA’s integrity and judicial independence, it is clear that the World Cup will leave behind a fraught and complicated legacy.

To better understand the World Cup’s long shadow, I spoke to Jules Boykoff, the acclaimed author of several books on football and the Olympic Games, including his most recent book Red Card: The 2026 World Cup, Sportswashing, and the FIFA Greed Machine. Jules is a former professional and Olympic soccer player, an international expert in sports politics, and a professor of political science at Pacific University who teaches on politics and dissent. He is also one of my favourite people at the intersection of sports and politics.

Happy listening!

Sports Politika is a media platform dedicated to the intersection of sports, power and politics. If you like what you see, upgrade to a paid subscription (or gift a subscription if you already have your own). We would appreciate if you could also like the post and let us know what you think in the comment section below.

Welcome to Sports Politika, a media venture founded by award-winning investigative journalist Karim Zidan that strives to help you understand how sports and politics shape the world around us. My mission is to offer an independent platform for accessible journalism that raises awareness and empowers understanding.

If you share this vision, please consider supporting my work by joining becoming a paid subscriber or by pre-ordering my new book, THE ULTIMATE STRONGMEN.

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For one night in Gaza, the sounds of war were drowned out by cheers and unadulterated joy.

As Egypt defeated Australia in a penalty shootout on Friday, July 3rd to continue its historic World Cup run to the Round of 16, Palestinians from across the Gaza Strip—from the ruins of Gaza city to the makeshift tents in Deir al-Balah—took to the streets to celebrate.

“For 90 minutes, we forgot the bombs, we forgot the hunger, we forgot the displacement, we forgot everything,” said Ahmed al-Masri, who watched the match from the Shati refugee camp. “Egypt is not just a neighbour; Egypt is our brother, our shield, our hope. When they win, we win. When they cry, we cry.”

The Egyptian Committee for the Reconstruction of Gaza is among the humanitarian entities that has organized public watch parties for displaced Palestinians fleeing ethnic cleansing to watch the 2026 World Cup. The committee provided screens, seating and electricity in places like Gaza city to allow a rare moment of distraction from ongoing devastation. Children draped themselves in Egyptian flags while others gathered in crowds to cheer on the Egyptian squad, and its beloved talisman Mohamed Salah.

“I haven’t seen my children smile like this since before the war,” said Umm Khaled, a displaced woman from northern Gaza. “When Egypt scored, my youngest daughter jumped up and hugged me so tight. For a moment, she was just a child again, not a survivor. That is what Egypt gave us tonight.”

Beyond Palestine, Egypt’s unexpected World Cup run appears to be resonating far beyond football, offering millions across the Arab world a rare moment of shared pride and regional solidarity.

In Libya, fireworks were set off in the Libyan capital, Tripoli, as well as the city of Benghazi following Egypt’s 4-2 victory on penalties against Australia. Hundreds gathered in Martyr’s Square, where they sang Egyptian songs and waved the country’s flag. In Kuwait, public squares and shopping centres that had set up large screens to broadcast the match attracted large crowds of Kuwaiti citizens and members of the Egyptian community.

In Lebanon, celebrations spilled into the streets, with the country embracing the country and raising both the Lebanese and Egyptian flags as they danced and partied in various cities across the country.

Meanwhile, outgoing Arab League Secretary-General Ahmed Aboul Gheit congratulated Egypt and Morocco on their achievements in the 2026 World Cup, adding that their performances on the world stage is a source of pride for all Arab nations. The sentiment was shared by other Arab leaders, including UAE Vice-President, Prime Minister, and Ruler of Dubai Sheikh Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum, who congratulated Egypt on its historic run.

“The Arabs’ joy today is Egyptian,” he wrote on his official X account.

When Morocco became the first Arab and African nation to reach the semi-final of the World Cup in 2022, the country enjoyed unrivalled support as the entire region rallied behind its national team. Egypt is now enjoying a similar reception as it continues to make history at the World Cup.

Despite participating as far back as the 1934 edition, Egypt—the country celebrated for winning a record seven African titles—had never managed to win a World Cup match until June 2026, when it defeated New Zealand 3-1 in Vancouver, Canada. The team then qualified for the knockout stage of the tournament without losing a single match, and went on to defeat Australia via penalties to set up a Tuesday showdown against Argentina.

Egypt is also one of two African and Arab teams left in the 2026 edition, alongside Morocco. Six other Arab teams have been eliminated from the competition, including five teams who failed to make it out of the group stage. Algeria was eliminated by Switzerland in the Round of 32.

African teams fared slightly better than their Arab counterparts. Nine of ten African nations made it out of the group stage, which is more than any other confederation at the tournament. However, only Egypt and Morocco managed to advance to the Round of 16 following disappointing results for Senegal and Cote d’ivoire.

As one of the few non-European or South American teams remaining in the competition, Egypt is carrying the hope and dreams of a wide range of peoples. This was evidently clear when Egypt’s coach, the legendary former striker Hossam Hassan, raised the Palestinian flag at Dallas Stadium following Egypt’s win against Australia.

“May God grant them [the Palestinians] victory, may God have mercy on their martyrs,” Hassan told reporters following the game. “I’m saying to them: I’m dedicating this victory to the Egyptian people and Palestinian people, those kind and honourable people.”

Hassan’s gesture of solidarity was met with criticism from pro-Israel supporters, many of whom labeled the coach and the Egyptian team as “hypocrites.” Their argument rested on the ridiculous notion that Egyptians have no right to express support for Palestine because their government has closed the Rafah crossing between Egypt and Gaza and has maintained a strict blockade since October 7, 2023.

“Egypt built a fortified border wall to protect its citizens from Hassan’s “kind and honorable” Palestinian “martyrs,” whom most Arab governments view as a domestic threat and economic burden,” wrote one commentator on the Middle East Forum.

While the argument is a transparent attempt to undermine Arab solidarity with Palestine by conflating ordinary Egyptians with their authoritarian state, it also betrays the discomfort many of Palestine’s critics feel when confronted with expressions of solidarity that have endured despite war, repression and political division.

In the end, it is unlikely to change how the people of Gaza see Egyptians, or the bonds many still feel with them.

“Egypt reminded us that we are not alone. The Arab world has not forgotten us,” a young man from Khan Yunis told Egyptian media after the Australia match on Friday. “When Hossam Hassan raised that flag, he raised the hopes of every Palestinian in Gaza.”

Sports Politika is a media platform dedicated to the intersection of sports, power and politics. If you like what you see, upgrade to a paid subscription (or gift a subscription if you already have your own). We would appreciate if you could also like the post and let us know what you think in the comment section below.

Welcome to Sports Politika, a media venture founded by award-winning investigative journalist Karim Zidan that strives to help you understand how sports and politics shape the world around us. My mission is to offer an independent platform for accessible journalism that raises awareness and empowers understanding.

If you share this vision, please consider supporting my work by joining becoming a paid subscriber or by pre-ordering my new book, THE ULTIMATE STRONGMEN.

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Ahead of England’s final 2026 World Cup group stage game against Panama, British talk show sleaze Piers Morgan decided to interview a so-called “Ghanian witch doctor” and fetish priest who had placed a curse on the team’s star striker Harry Kane.

During the interview, the witch doctor—who goes by the name Nana Kwaku Bonsam, which roughly translates as “Devil of Wednesday” in the Twi language—claimed to have placed a spiritual curse on Kane to prevent him from scoring against Ghana. He even revealed a jar which he claimed contained over 25 snakes used in the ritual process for the match, which ultimately ended in a 0-0 draw.

Determined to clarify the status of the curse after the match, Morgan asked, “Can you just confirm that there is now no ongoing curse against Harry? He’s allowed to score now?”

Bonsam confirmed that Kane had been released from the curse and that he would perform admirably against Panama, “It’s not going to be like the way Ghana is…”

Kane went on to score in England’s comfortable 2-0 win against Panama, securing its place atop Group L and setting up a Round of 32 game against the Democratic Republic of Congo. Kane went on to score two more decisive goals in that game on Wednesday.

Bonsam is a well known fetish priest in Ghana, a man loved and feared for the spiritual powers he harnesses. He has 14 children (nine of which are adopted), and once ran a free elementary school and cattle farm from his estate. He makes regular appearances in Ghana’s media circuit, and even spent a year in New York to treat facial injuries he had received as a child during a gas explosion. He is renowned as a healer in his home country and even ran for parliamentary office in 2016, though was ultimately unsuccessful. The New York Times reported on his foray into politics in a piece titled “The Devil is Running for a Seat in Parliament.”

While fetish priests have historically preferred to work in secret, Bonsam has learned to utilize the modern media landscape to popularize traditional religions in much the same way that televangelists used television and radio to promote Christianity. Football has become another platform for Bonsam, whose curse on Kane has gone viral on social media, making him an unlikely character in the 2026 World Cup.

And though black magic may seen like an absurd topic for most, it is serious business in African football.

Accusations of witchcraft, juju, and voodoo are commonplace at the African Cup of Nations tournament, the continent’s premier football competition. Teams from both East and West Africa have been known to carry talismans, invoke prayers, and practice rituals ahead of important matches. This has often led to scandals at AFCON. During a match at the 2000 edition between Senegal and Nigeria, a former official of the Nigerian FA raced on to the pitch in the final 15 minutes of the game and seized a supposed magi charm that had been lying in the back of the Senegal net. Nigeria went on to score two late goals to win 2-1. The official was subsequently banned but his actions were believed to have helped the Nigerian team to victory.

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Welcome to Sports Politika, a media venture founded by award-winning investigative journalist Karim Zidan that strives to help you understand how sports and politics shape the world around us. My mission is to offer an independent platform for accessible journalism that raises awareness and empowers understanding.

If you share this vision, please consider supporting my work by joining becoming a paid subscriber or by pre-ordering my new book, THE ULTIMATE STRONGMEN.

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The beautiful game is supposed to transcend politics. Football’s governing institutions routinely celebrate the sport as a universal language capable of uniting people across borders, religions and ideologies. This is especially true of football’s signature tournament and spectacle, the World Cup - which is currently unfolding across North America. Yet in Gaza, a hemisphere and wold away, football has become another ledger of loss that looms in the shadow of the World Cup.

Among the tens of thousands of Palestinians killed during the war are hundreds of footballers whose lives embodied the aspirations of a besieged people. Their deaths have not merely thinned rosters or interrupted seasons. They have erased dreams, dismantled institutions and severed a vital source of hope for a generation growing up amid siege, ethnic cleansing, and for more than two years, genocide.

One of those players was Suleiman al-Obeid, a former Palestinian national team star often described as the “Palestinian Pele.” During a distinguished career, he scored more than 100 goals and became one of the most celebrated footballers in Palestinian history. His death reverberated far beyond Gaza because al-Obeid represented something larger than sport: the possibility that talent and determination could break through suffocating political barriers.

The Palestinian Pele was not alone. Muhannad al-Lili, a standout player in Gaza’s Premier League, died from injuries sustained during an airstrike. Mohammed Barakat, known as the “Legend of Khan Younis,” was among Palestine’s most accomplished footballers. Ahmad Abu al-Atta, a defender for Al-Ahly Gaza, was killed alongside members of his family. Hani al-Masdar, the coach of Palestine’s Olympic team and a revered figure in the evolution of Palestinian football, was also killed.

Others have been kidnapped, most notably, Rand Al Halawani, 20, and Natalie Abu Dayyeh, 21, both Palestinian international footballers. Their detention has prompted calls for FIFA, which stages the World Cup, to act on their behalf. (Editor note: AL Halawani was released a few days later, though Abu Dayyeh remains in detention)

The shadows of these Palestinian footballers (departed and presented), in the imagination of football fans in Gaza, dribble alongside Lionel Messi, Cristino Ronaldo, Mohamed Salah, and other football stars competing in the World Cup. Even more, their jerseys are ubiquitous across Gaza, worn by children bloodied by airstrikes and slain along its beaches.

Furthermore, the names of these late Palestinian players matter because statistics alone can obscure the human cost of war. Yet the statistics themselves are staggering. The Palestinian Football Association reported that more than 400 Palestinian football players have been killed since October 2023. More than 1,000 members of Gaza’s broader sporting community—including coaches, referees, administrators and club officials—have lost their lives. Stadiums that once hosted league matches now stand damaged or destroyed. Training grounds have become rubble. Young legs that once kicked round balls have been amputated.

The destruction of football in Gaza mirrors the destruction of Gaza itself. Sport is often dismissed as a luxury, something secondary to questions of survival. But for communities living under extraordinary pressure, football serves functions far beyond entertainment. It provides routine amid chaos, collective identity amid fragmentation and ambition amid scarcity, and most importantly, an escape from the horrors of war and genocide. In Gaza, there is no escape, and the slain footballers, decimated fields and deferred dreams testify to that.

The devastation cannot be quantified. For many young Palestinians, football represented one of the few remaining pathways to opportunity. Local clubs offered structure, mentorship and the possibility of competing beyond Gaza’s borders. On dusty pitches and crowded fields, children imagined futures larger than the constraints surrounding them.

Today, many of those futures have been buried beneath the ruins of neighborhoods, schools and sports facilities.

The global football community frequently invokes the language of solidarity. FIFA and continental federations celebrate football’s ability to affirm human dignity and bring people together. Those ideals demand consistency. The deaths of Palestinian footballers deserve recognition not because they were athletes, but because they were human beings whose lives held the same value as players anywhere else in the world.

These two had dreams of competing on the World Cup stage, and representing the aspiration of a people on a more level playing field than the political one imposed upon them.

Every footballer killed in Gaza leaves behind more than an empty position on a team sheet. Each leaves behind a story unfinished, a family grieving and a future denied. Their absence is a reminder that when war destroys a sporting culture, it destroys far more than a game.

While watching the World Cup, do not look past this view from Gaza.

This post was first published in Khaled' Beydoun’s Counterstory Substack.

Sports Politika is a media platform dedicated to the intersection of sports, power and politics. If you like what you see, upgrade to a paid subscription (or gift a subscription if you already have your own). We would appreciate if you could also like the post and let us know what you think in the comment section below.

Welcome to Sports Politika, a media venture founded by award-winning investigative journalist Karim Zidan that strives to help you understand how sports and politics shape the world around us. My mission is to offer an independent platform for accessible journalism that raises awareness and empowers understanding.

If you share this vision, please consider supporting my work by joining becoming a paid subscriber or by pre-ordering my new book, THE ULTIMATE STRONGMEN.

Subscribe now

Tunisia’s 2026 World Cup campaign was utterly miserable.

The “Carthage Eagles” saw their North American campaign come to a swift end on Thursday after a 3–1 defeat to the Netherlands. The loss left Tunisia bottom of the group with zero points and a goal difference of -10—among the worst performances of any team in World Cup history.

Despite topping their qualifying group by 13 points, Tunisia lost all three of its World Cup group games, including a 1-5 loss to Sweden in the opening match, which led to the sacking of the team’s head coach Sabri Lamouchi. Yet despite bringing former Africa Cup of Nations winner Herve Renard as his replacement, Tunisia lost its second match to Japan 4-0, thus ensuring that it would not advance past the group stage.

The only teams to have performed worse than Tunisia in recent history were Saudi Arabia, which finished with a -12 goal differential following an humiliating 8-0 loss to Germany in 2002, North Korea, which was the lowest ranked team in the 2010 World Cup and finished bottom of its group with a -11 goal differential, and Iraq, which finished its 2026 campaign with zero points and a -11 goal differential.

Over the past decade, Tunisia has succeeded in maintaining the image of footballing stability in Africa. It maintained a near-permanent presence at the AFCON, and had a handful of clubs capable of competing continentally. But recent years have indicated at a deeper rot within Tunisian football. In comparison to fellow North African neighbours like Morocco and Egypt, Tunisia has not enjoyed the same level of state investment in football. Stadiums and training facilities remain outdated; local leagues suffer from a lack of funding and competitiveness, and a limited talent scouting and development.

These vulnerabilities within Tunisian football were evident long before the 2026 World Cup. In January 2026, Tunisia failed to reach the AFCON quarterfinal after losing to a 10-man Mali on penalties. The federation dismissed head coach Sami Trabelsi and brought in Lamouchi. At first, the results seemed promising: a 1-0 win against Haiti and a 0-0 draw with Canada. Then came a 1-0 loss to Austria and a calamitous 5-0 loss to Belgium, which set the stage for a disastrous World Cup run.

Tunisia’s humiliating World Cup campaign has made it a global punchline. But the real crisis runs far deeper than football.

Hours following Tunisia’s final group game against the Netherlands, a local court sentenced Sihem Bensedrine, 75, a prominent human rights defender, to a total of 25 years in prison. Bensedrine was detained in August 2024 on charges relating to her work seeking state accountability for decades of human rights abuses. Her sentencing marked the latest in President Kais Saied and the Tunisian government’s crackdown on civil liberties and dissent in the country.

“The abusive conviction and sentencing of Sihem Bensedrine to 25 years behind bars reflects the cruelty of President Kais Saied’s government, which has sought to strangle human rights and social justice in Tunisia,” said Bassam Khawaja, deputy Middle East and North Africa director at Human Rights Watch. “Bensedrine has for decades been harassed, jailed, and pushed into exile for her human rights work. Her sentence would keep her in prison until she’s 100 years old.”

Tunisia is one of the several Arab countries that sought a democratic transition following revolutions that overturned decades of authoritarian rule, known as the “Arab Spring.” Tunisians were the first to take to the streets in December 2010, eventually ousting President Zine El Abidine Ben Ali, who reigned from 1987-2011. In the immediate aftermath of his removal, Tunisia experienced a period of genuine political freedom, where elections were competitive, political parties were formed, and civil and political rights were significantly expanded.

Despite the improvements in political freedoms, relatively little changed in terms of economic outlooks. Tunisians still endured bureaucratic inefficiency, corruption, inequality and limited employment opportunities, which impacted their faith in the democratic system. This eventually led to the rise of Kais Saied, an independent candidate who rose of populist wave of resentment against the political elites that propelled him to the presidency by 2019. Less than two years later, Saied moved to centralize power by dissolving parliament cracking down on judicial independence.

In the five years since dismantling the remnants of the post-2011 democratic order, Saied has overseen Tunisia’s gradual slide into authoritarianism and state repression. In 2023, government officials confiscated all copies of Kamel Riahi’s The Tunisian Frankenstein, whose cover features Saïed depicted as Frankenstein’s monster. Riahi’s book uses the metaphor of Frankenstein’s monster to highlight the dangerous transformation of Tunisia’s political landscape since the 2011 revolution. Banning the book only served to prove Riahi’s point. (Author’s Note: I have one of the last surviving copies of the book and it remains a cherished part of my library)

“This incident is unprecedented in Tunisia’s post-2011 history, and it highlights the severe threat to freedom of expression, particularly as the authorities mobilize crowds and supporters to silence opposition and dissent,” Riahi said in an interview at the time. “As a result, I have been subjected to thousands of insults and threats from the president’s supporters, a form of violence that will undoubtedly have a chilling effect on other opinion holders.”

By 2024, Tunisian authorities have systematically “targeted civil society organizations through arbitrary arrests, detentions, financial and criminal investigations, and administrative suspensions,” threatening to “collapse one of the last remaining pillars of democracy in the country,” according to HRW. Tunisian authorities have prosecuted dozens of NGO workers and activists, targeted independent media outlets with financial investigations and lengthy prison sentences, and collective expulsions of migrant asylum seekers.

On Friday, June 26—the day following Tunisia’s World Cup exit—the Committee to Protect Journalists, Amnesty International, and five other press freedom and human rights organizations sent a joint letter to the European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen calling for an immediate change in the EU’s approach toward Tunisia due to a severe human rights decline.

“Civil society in Tunisia is under attack,” read the letter.

Sports Politika is a media platform dedicated to the intersection of sports, power and politics. If you like what you see, upgrade to a paid subscription (or gift a subscription if you already have your own). We would appreciate if you could also like the post and let us know what you think in the comment section below.

Welcome to Sports Politika, a media venture founded by award-winning investigative journalist Karim Zidan that strives to help you understand how sports and politics shape the world around us. My mission is to offer an independent platform for accessible journalism that raises awareness and empowers understanding.

If you share this vision, please consider supporting my work by joining becoming a paid subscriber or by pre-ordering my new book, THE ULTIMATE STRONGMEN.

Subscribe now

BREAD AND FOOTBALL is a critical poster series that examines football as a global spectacle shaped by power, distraction, and controlled emotion.

Through seven minimal visual metaphors, the project questions how the World Cup can move beyond sport and become a mechanism of mass attention: a beautiful trap, a ritual of applause, a toxic atmosphere, a controlled signal, and finally, a diversion that silences other urgent realities.

The series does not reject the game itself. Instead, it looks at what gathers around it: violence disguised as celebration, loyalty shaped by spectacle, and entertainment used as a soft instrument of political control.

01. HOME GROUND

A stadium becomes a landmine, suggesting that even the safest-looking ground can hide violence beneath the game.

02. APPLAUSE FOR BLOOD

The football field becomes a bullring, where violence is not hidden, but watched, cheered, and turned into spectacle.

03. THE BEAUTIFUL TRAP

The pitch becomes a mousetrap, showing how football can capture public attention while other realities disappear.

04. SPECTATOR SPECIES

A chameleon with a football eye reflects how spectators can change with every spectacle, adapting to whatever they are shown.

05. TOXIC MATCH

A gas mask breathes through a football, suggesting an atmosphere where the game becomes part of what poisons the air.

06. UNDER CONTROL

A corner flag becomes a television antenna, turning the field into a tool for broadcasting controlled stories.

07. DIVERSION

A football becomes a mouth gag, showing how entertainment can distract people until silence feels normal.

Sports Politika is a media platform dedicated to the intersection of sports, power and politics. If you like what you see, upgrade to a paid subscription (or gift a subscription if you already have your own). We would appreciate if you could also like the post and let us know what you think in the comment section below.

Welcome to Sports Politika, a media venture founded by award-winning investigative journalist Karim Zidan that strives to help you understand how sports and politics shape the world around us. My mission is to offer an independent platform for accessible journalism that raises awareness and empowers understanding.

If you share this vision, please consider supporting my work by joining becoming a paid subscriber or by pre-ordering my new book, THE ULTIMATE STRONGMEN.

Subscribe now

Hours after helping mastermind Egypt’s 3-1 comeback victory against New Zealand to secure his nation its first ever World Cup victory, Mohamed Salah felt like celebrating.

As the team’s bus arrived at its downtown Vancouver hotel, the players plunged into the crowd gathered outside, standard protocol be damned. One carried a JBL party speaker blasting Egyptian mahraganat music. Another hoisted Salah onto his shoulders as chants rang out from the ecstatic supporters surrounding them.

The celebrations spilled across downtown Vancouver and lasted deep into the night. And as dawn broke nearly 11,000 kilometres away in Cairo, millions more joined the party.

Egypt’s 3-1 victory against New Zealand, which took place in front of more than 52,000 (mostly Egyptian) attendees at BC Place in Vancouver, Canada, ended Egypt’s 92-year drought at the quadrennial tournament. Since debuting at the 1934 World Cup in fascist Italy, Egypt had failed to win a single match, despite earning hard fought draws with The Netherlands and Ireland in 1990, back when Hossam Hassan was Egypt’s star player rather than its coach. In a remarkable change of fortunes, Egypt now sits at the top of Group G with four points after holding Belgium to a 1-1 draw and defeating New Zealand on Sunday.

“My feelings are exactly the same as those of the Egyptian people because I am one of them,” Hassan reflected afterwards. “I told the players at half-time, ‘We are playing in Egypt.’ The stadium was so full, it truly felt like Cairo.”

As thousands of Egyptians took over the streets of Cairo on Monday morning, chanting, singing and waving flags with smiles of joy etched across their faces, it was a reminder that the nation of more than 100 million had very few opportunities to celebrate.

Over the past few years, Egypt has endured the most severe economic crisis since the 2011 revolution. The current debt crisis, spurned government spending on mega projects, has resulted in soaring inflation, capital flight, and a weak currency that continues to fall against the dollar. This constellation of economic disasters has rendered the cost of living unaffordable for the average Egyptian.

Egypt’s economic outlook has started to improve over the past year. The country’s GDP is increasing while its credit rating was recently upgraded. Nevertheless, Egypt continues to rely on investments from the Gulf, such as the developments being undertaken by Qatar and the UAE along Egypt’s mediterranean coast, while inflation and a rising cost of living continues to plague Egyptians.

Egyptians under the poverty line and struggling to find cheap food amid soaring prices. More than 70% of Egypt 105 million population relies on the government’s bread subsidy programme, making it the largest food subsidy program in the Middle East and North Africa. With little else to offer hope and joy, Egyptians have historically turned to football for their fleeting moments of joy.

Despite its weak World Cup resume, Egypt has a storied footballing history. In 1957, the inaugural Africa Cup of Nations (AFCON) was held in Khartoum, Sudan. There was no qualification process; the tournament field consisted solely of the four founding members of the Confederation of African Football (CAF): Egypt, Sudan, Ethiopia, and South Africa. South Africa was disqualified after insisting on selecting an all-white squad in accordance with its apartheid policy, a decision that granted Ethiopia a bye directly to the final. As a result, only two matches were played. Egypt was crowned the first continental champion after defeating host nation Sudan 2–1 in the semi-final and Ethiopia 4–0 in the final.

Egypt’s victory carried far more than mere national pride. The country had just emerged from the Suez Canal Crisis, during which British and French forces—acting in concert with Israel—invaded Egypt in an attempt to protect their interests in the recently nationalized canal. The ensuing international backlash forced a humiliating withdrawal, dealing Britain a severe blow to its legitimacy and global standing and marking one of the final nails in the coffin of its imperial ambitions. The fact that Egypt—newly free and independent—had won the inaugural competition so closely associated with decolonization became a powerful symbol for a burgeoning African continent.

Egypt has since continued to make AFCON history. The Arab world’s most populous country has won the event a record seven times, including three consecutive wins in 2006, 2008, and 2010.

However, the country has not managed to reclaim its former glory since the 2011 Arab Spring, which was the same year that Salah first appeared on the national team. Since then, Egypt has reached the finals on two occasions (2017 and 2021). In the 2021 edition of AFCON, Salah’s team came close to winning the cup but fell short in a penalty shootout against Sadio Mané’s Senegal.

Despite the loss, it had been Egypt’s best performance in years. In 2018, Egypt crashed out of the World Cup without winning a single match. The following year, Egypt hosted AFCON but failed to reach the quarter-final stage in a tournament plagued with scandals including accusations of sexual harassment against Salah’s teammate Amr Warda.

After failing to qualify for the 2022 World Cup in Qatar, Egypt reached the semi-final at the 2025 AFCON in Morocco, where they were once again defeated by Senegal. Since then, the team has maintained an excellent record in World Cup qualification and is now on track to reach the knockout stage of the tournament for the first time in its history.

And though Egyptians deserve to celebrate and bask in this rare moment of unbridled joy, the Egyptian state is never far behind.

A few months before the 2006 Africa Cup of Nations, President Hosni Mubarak secured another six-year term in elections widely criticized for human rights abuses and electoral interference. Despite the regime’s growing unpopularity, Mubarak and his family became fixtures at Egypt’s matches, cultivating a symbolic association between the government and the national team’s success.

The contrast became even starker in February 2006, when the MS al-Salam Boccaccio 98 ferry sank in the Red Sea on its return voyage from Saudi Arabia, killing more than 1,000 Egyptian workers and pilgrims. Mubarak allowed Mamdouh Ismail, the ferry’s owner and a businessman with close ties to the regime, to leave for London without facing trial. While he never visited the victims’ families, Mubarak found time to host Egypt’s victorious footballers at the presidential palace, lavishing attention on figures admired by millions across the country.

By 2011, Egypt’s Ultras groups, the hardcore football fans who supported Egypt’s leading clubs, became instrumental figures in the 18-day uprising in January. Emerging as revolutionaries, these football fans helped topple Mubarak’s regime and emerged as a potent political force in post-revolution Egypt. Within a year, the group would face one of the worst tragedies in football history.

On February 1, 2012, riots occurred following an Egyptian Premier League match between Al Ahly and Al Masry in Port Said. 74 people were killed that day, including 72 Ultras supporters. 500 Egyptian citizens were wounded in the assault. Some were beaten to death with clubs and sticks; some were stabbed; others were trampled. Most of the deaths were due to police inaction. Officials refused to open the stadium gates, trapping fans inside and causing a stampede. In response to the tragedy, the Egyptian government shuttered the Egyptian league for two years, which had a miserable effect on the national team.

In the 14 years since the Port Said massacre, much has changed in Egypt. In 2013, a coup d’état saw Egypt’s military oust Mohamed Morsi, a member of the Muslim Brotherhood and Egypt’s first freely elected president, paving the way for Abdel-Fattah el-Sisi to ascend to the presidency. Egypt has since faced an unprecedented wave of human rights abuses and oppression. Even football—Egypt’s national sport and pastime—was not sparred.

Which is what makes the team’s success in Vancouver so remarkable. Against the backdrop of economic collapse, political oppression, a hollowed-out domestic league and years of footballing frustration, Egypt found something it had been denied for far too long: joy.

Sports Politika is a media platform dedicated to the intersection of sports, power and politics. If you like what you see, upgrade to a paid subscription (or gift a subscription if you already have your own). We would appreciate if you could also like the post and let us know what you think in the comment section below.

Welcome to Sports Politika, a media venture founded by award-winning investigative journalist Karim Zidan that strives to help you understand how sports and politics shape the world around us. My mission is to offer an independent platform for accessible journalism that raises awareness and empowers understanding.

If you share this vision, please consider supporting my work by joining becoming a paid subscriber or by pre-ordering my new book, THE ULTIMATE STRONGMEN.

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“I don’t care what Lamine Yamal’s ID says.”

This was the headline of a recent opinion piece in El Español, a prominent outlet with the largest digital reach among all newspapers in Spain, that attempted to challenge talismanic teenage phenom Lamine Yamal’s allegiance to Spain.

“If Morocco were a football power, Yamal would have chosen to play with the Moroccan team, but the flags he would carry on his boots would still be the Moroccan and Guinean, not the Spanish,” wrote Cristian Campos, who serves as editor-in-chief of the paper’s op-ed section.

Campos’ comments stem from Spain’s opening game at the 2026 FIFA World Cup, where Yamal appeared in customized football boots that bore the flags of Morocco, in tribute to his father, and Equatorial Guinea, in recognition of his mother’s heritage. The controversy first emerged on social media before being picked up by Spanish media, including Campos.

Born in Barcelona to immigrant parents, Yamal grew up in the working class neighbourhood of Rocafonda, which he continues to pay tribute to making a gesture of the number 304, the last digits of the local postcode, when he scores a goal. He was scouted by Barcelona at age six and grew up playing in the youth ranks of the club’s youth academy. He has remained with Barcelona ever since, and helped lead the team to their 29th La Liga title in May 2026. Yamal has also played for Spain’s senior national team since 2023, when he was still 16 years old. So why is a player born in Spain, and who grew up playing for one of the country’s most popular clubs, facing scrutiny about his national identity?

There are several reasons why Yamal has drawn the ire of Spain’s right-wing media. The 18-year-old is Catalonian, Black, and a practising Muslim who uses his platform to express his personal beliefs. In March, Lamal spoke out agains the “ignorant and racist” anti-Muslim chants that took place during a friendly match between Spain and Egypt in Barcelona. And after Barcelona defeated Real Madrid to win the La Liga title in May, the team’s teenage superstar raised a Palestinian flag during a celebration parade to cheers from the crowd in attendance.

At the time, Lamal’s gesture in support of Palestine drew a visceral response from Israeli officials. Israeli defence minister Israel Katz took to X to accuse Yamal of inciting hatred against Israel and the Jewish people, and demand that the club to distance itself from Yamal’s actions. Spain’s prime minister Pedro Sanchez, one of Europe’s most vocal critics of Israel, responded shortly thereafter, insisting that “those who consider waving the flag of a State to be “inciting hatred” have either lost their judgment or been blinded by their own ignominy.”

Yamal is now embroiled in an nationalist debate that aims to instil doubt about his supposed loyalty to Spain. In his op-ed, Campos argues that Yamal chose to play for Spain because it benefited him professionally and financially, rather than out of a desire to represent the country of his birth. It is an argument built entirely on a cynical assumption with no basis in reality.

Worse, Campos relies on a comparison with former UFC champion Ilia Topuria, who moved to Spain from Georgia as a teenager. His nickname is “El Matador,” paying homage to the Spanish bullfighter, while his entrance music is the iconic Canción del Mariachi from the 1995 film Desperado. And though Topuria represented Spain as one of the best fighters in the world, the argument that he is more worthy of being Spanish than Yamal is nonsensical because it ignores the fact that Topuria is a dual citizen who also represents his Georgian roots. In that sense, he is no different to Yamal.

What is especially strange about this argument is that there are countless players in the 2026 World Cup who could have represented another country. Folarin Balogun, who was born to Nigerian parents and grew up in England, scored two twice in the U.S. opener against Paraguay; 18-year-old Ayyoub Bouaddi switched from France to Morocco ahead of the tournament; Brahim Díaz played one game for Spain before moving over to Morocco; Yasin Ayari plays for Sweden instead of his native Tunisia; Kylian Mbappé was eligible to play for Cameroon or Algeria because of his family background but chose France, where he was born and raised.

These dual national players suit the naysayers and nationalists when their team happens to be winning. When Yamal helped Spain lift the 2024 Euro championship, he was celebrated as a national hero. But when Spain failed to beat a debuting Cape Verde in their opening match at the 2026 World Cup, suddenly it was the perfect time for a debate about a teenager’s shoes.

And yet I keep coming back to Campos’ comparison with Topuria. In his op-ed, he claims there is a distinction between “legal nationality and substantive belonging,” and attributes that distinction to the UFC fighter. For Campos, to be Spanish is to embrace a form of performative nationalism that demands complete integration into the country that welcomed you. Any attempt to challenge that performance gets you branded a traitor.

Then there is the fact that Campos specifically chose a UFC fighter as his shining example of nationalism. For those who have followed my reporting on combat sports over the years, you’ll know that the sport oozes nationalist machismo and has long been a vector for strongman politics. Topuria is no exception. He visited Donald Trump in the Oval Office and even headlined the UFC propaganda spectacle that took place on the south lawn of the White House. He actively participated in another president’s soft power display—a country that has threatened a trade embargo with Spain—yet that does not seem to bother Campos.

Topuria also faced domestic abuse allegations from his ex-wife in 2025. He denied the accusations and claimed he was being extorted. The case was dismissed after the former couple reached a settlement out of court. Somehow, Campos must have forgotten to mention these inconvenient details when making a case for Topuria as the ideal Spaniard.

“There are no nations of Yamals,” Campos concluded in his piece. “There are only the nations of Topurias.”

Here’s the thing: Yamal’s decision to pay homage to his family roots is not a rejection of the country he represents. It is a small, personal display of family pride and an example of the type of diversity that reflects Spain’s changing population. To demand that people trade their heritage for some outdated vision of nationalism is to reduce citizenship to an outdated ethnic purity test rather than a democratic society built on shared rights and values.

It’s a shame Campos still can’t understand that…unless Yamal scores, of course.

Sports Politika is a media platform dedicated to the intersection of sports, power and politics. If you like what you see, upgrade to a paid subscription (or gift a subscription if you already have your own). We would appreciate if you could also like the post and let us know what you think in the comment section below.

If you share this vision, please consider supporting my work by joining becoming a paid subscriber or by pre-ordering my new book, THE ULTIMATE STRONGMEN.

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Welcome to Sports Politika, a media venture founded by award-winning investigative journalist Karim Zidan that strives to help you understand how sports and politics shape the world around us. My mission is to offer an independent platform for accessible journalism that raises awareness and empowers understanding.

If you share this vision, please consider supporting my work by joining becoming a paid subscriber or by pre-ordering my new book.

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It is finally happening.

Less than 48 hours removed from the grotesque propaganda spectacle known as UFC Freedom 250, I am delighted to announce that my debut book, THE ULTIMATE STRONGMEN, is now available for pre-order.

Part memoir, part investigative excavation of the underbelly of MMA, the book expands upon much of my reporting over the past decade—reporting that earned me death threats for exposing how Chechen dictator Ramzan Kadyrov used state-sponsored MMA gyms to train soldiers for combat; reporting that uncovered the rise of an international network of neo-Nazi MMA fight clubs preying on disaffected young men; reporting that revealed the growing influence of Gulf state autocrats within the sport, tracing how MMA has become a powerful tool for political agendas, propaganda, and control.

Then there is the Donald Trump-UFC alliance, and how that reshaped American politics and culture. Trump didn’t just adopt the aesthetics of the UFC—he weaponized them to reshape political discourse, rally a new base, and redefine what it means to be a “strong” leader. Even for those who don’t care about sports, this shift matters.

While I didn’t know it at the time, there was always a common denominator between these stories—a thread linking my reporting in Russia and the Middle East to my work in the United States. MMA, especially through the UFC, has evolved into ground zero for a new wave of right-wing, hyper-masculine counterculture. It is no longer a haven for amateurs and misfits but a gateway to far-right extremism and authoritarian spectacle, as we witnessed during the UFC White House event last week.

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THE ULTIMATE STRONGMEN has already received critical acclaim, as well as the prestigious J. Anthony Lukas Work-in-Progress Award, co-administered by Columbia Journalism School and the Nieman Foundation for Journalism at Harvard University.

Here is what the judges had to say about the book:

[THE ULTIMATE STRONGMEN] will be a vital and stylish work of reportage and memoir about mixed martial arts (MMA) and the Ultimate Fighting Championship (UFC), especially in the age of Trump, whose alliance with UFC has helped mainstream, in Zidan’s words, a ”brand of aggressive nationalism and anti-establishment rhetoric that has since bled into broader American politics.” Zidan’s work is an indispensable guide to a sport and culture not well known outside its fanbase, but which has, as his journalism has shown, links to neo-Nazis, Gulf autocrats, gendered propaganda, and much more. With deep sourcing and narrative command, Zidan’s story traces UFC from its outlaw origins—once denounced as ”human cockfighting” by Senator John McCain—to its emergence as a cultural arm of the MAGA movement, with its politics of dominance, spectacle, and grievance. He has a gift for illustrating these sweeping themes with intimate human stories, from a former UFC champion turned QAnon-peddling city councilman to the fighters who cheered Trump even while their own labor rights were gutted. Zidan, an award-winning, Cairo-born journalist, has reported on this beat for over a decade, despite bans, death threats, and the hostility of powerful institutions—demonstrating the same defiant persistence as the fighters he covers. The Lukas Prize will help him complete his ambitious reporting, which spans Russia, the Middle East, and the United States, all the way to the White House.

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About the Book:

From Karim Zidan, award-winning investigative journalist who has spent the past decade embedded at the intersection of sports and politics, an “indispensable guide” (J. Anthony Lukas Work-in-Progress Prize) to the intertwined relationship between mixed martial arts, hypermasculinity, and authoritarianism.

For those wondering why US politics feel more like an entertainment product than a democratic process, the alliance between Donald Trump and the UFC offers a crucial explanation. Trump didn’t just adopt the aesthetics of the UFC—he weaponized them to reshape political discourse, rally a new base, and redefine what it means to be a “strong” leader. It has helped shift the Overton window on acceptable political behavior, turning trash talk, and open hostility into presidential policy. Even for those who don’t care about sports, this shift matters: when politics becomes a bloodsport, democracy suffers a critical blow.

But beyond the pro league, mixed martial arts writ large has itself helped lay the foundation for a countercultural movement—one that has evolved into the reactionary, conspiracy-fueled ecosystem the sport embodies today. From conservative pundits like Tucker Carlson and Candace Owens; to influencers like Joe Rogan, and self-styled misogynists like Andrew Tate; to authoritarian backers like the Saudi and Emirati royal families; and even recent public support from the likes of practitioners Mark Zuckerberg, MMA has become synonymous with the “strongman”—an archetype of masculine domination, authoritarian culture, right-wing ideology, and state-sanctioned violence.

The Ultimate Strongmen traces how MMA has become a powerful tool for political agendas, propaganda, and control, illuminating the wide-ranging impacts of MMA on our political moment. Through exclusive interviews, narrative storytelling, and in-depth reporting, Karim Zidan reveals how Donald Trump’s alliance with the UFC, as well as MMA’s emergence as a right-wing counter-culture ecosystem, isn’t just a footnote in American politics—it has fundamentally reshaped it.

Pre-order THE ULTIMATE STRONGMEN here. Get 20% off with code JUNE20 plus free shipping on orders of $40 or more. Those who show proof of purchase will also get a 12-month paid subscription to Sports Politika, giving you access to all our content.

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Sports Politika is a media platform dedicated to the intersection of sports, power and politics. If you like what you see, upgrade to a paid subscription (or gift a subscription if you already have your own). We would appreciate if you could also like the post and let us know what you think in the comment section below.

Welcome to Sports Politika, a media venture founded by award-winning investigative journalist Karim Zidan that strives to help you understand how sports and politics shape the world around us. My mission is to offer an independent platform for accessible journalism that raises awareness and empowers understanding.

If you share this vision, please consider supporting my work by joining becoming a paid subscriber.

Subscribe now

For all the pyrotechnics, pageantry, and nationalist kitsch that defined the UFC Freedom 250 event that took place on the south lawn of the White House, the night’s most ominous moment occurred shortly before the main event when the UFC unveiled a TV ad for the rebranded U.S. Department of War.

The ad showed members of the armed forces jumping out of planes, invading beaches, and dropping bombs, all to an ominous cinematic score. A voiceover from Pete Hegseth announced that “America is winning” while Trump parroted his presidential mantra “peace through strength.”

“Through our power and might we will lead the world to peace,” Trump says in the ad. “Our friends will respect us, our enemies will fear us, and “the whole world will admire the unrivalled greatness of the U.S. military.”

This single ad perfectly summed up the UFC White House spectacle: a night that blended patriotism with bloodlust, and cagefighting with bellicism.

After fears that rain would wash out the event dispersed along with the clouds that bore those bad omens, the event began with UFC CEO Dana White and U.S. President Donald Trump making the walk through the White House together before arriving at a balcony where Trump saluted the crowd as military aircrafts flew low over the event.

The production was unlike anything the UFC had produced in the past. The fighters walked through the White House and down a military honour guard corridor while United States Marine Band serenaded the crowd with renditions of songs like “YMCA”. There were drone shots of the Washington Monument, fireworks displays, ring-card girls dressed like Wonder Woman and Supergirl, and thousands of rowdy service members chanting “U-S-A”—all beneath a 92-foot structure dubbed “The Claw” that engulfed the makeshift arena.

The list of VIP attendees was extensive. There were tech tycoons like Meta CEO Mark Zuckerberg; athletes like boxer Terence Crawford, football legend Zlatan Ibrahimović, and WWE star Roman Reigns; and a cast of Trump officials and cabinet members. UFC owner Ari Emanuel played the role of mediator as he ushered guests to meet with Trump between fights. This included Paramount Skydance CEO David Ellison, whose company had the exclusive broadcast rights for the UFC White House event (after paying $7.7 billion for longterm UFC broadcast rights in 2025). Ellison likely had kind words for Trump, whose Department of Justice recently approved Paramount’s $110 billion takeover of Warner Bros, which would further consolidate American media and establish one of the largest global entertainment businesses in the world.

Beyond the White House perimeter, at the Ellipse, tens of thousands of fans gathered to watch the spectacle, which consisted of seven fights. There were also countless ads from the UFC’s lucrative sponsors like Crypto.com, RAM trucks, and Monster Energy drinks. There were also a few new sponsors like World Liberty Financial, the Trump financial business plagued by scandals, which offered $250,000 in performance bonuses for deserving fighters on the card. The partnership placed an even brighter spotlight on the financial dealings between the UFC and Trump, who also bought shares in TKO before the White House event.

The other is Anduril, a controversial defense tech start-up known for developing AI-powered war machines and sentry towers used to surveil the U.S.-Mexico border. Named after the sword in The Lord of the Rings and valued at over $60 billion, Anduril was featured in ad spots, and had its logo was emblazoned on the Octagon canvas along with the words “fight unfair.”

Anduril is a key beneficiary of the Trump administration’s ongoing effort to re-industrialize the U.S. military. The company secured a 10-year U.S. Army enterprise contract and acquired missile tracking and intelligence firm ExoAnalytic Solutions in an attempt to scale its capabilities and win future contracts for Trump projects such as the “Golden Dome” missile defense system.

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As part of its deal with the UFC, Anduril will work with Zuffa Boxing—the UFC and Saudi joint effort to reshape boxing— to stage military-themed boxing events. Military boxers will compete on the official fight card before fellow service members and supporters, with tickets distributed broadly throughout the military community. While this may sound absurd, it signals an emerging power nexus in the U.S. that fuses the military-industrial complex with cage-fight politics.

While the organization may have spent a reported $60 million to pull off the show, it recouped millions in sponsorship deals for the event, and even secured some new partnerships in the process. This included a memorandum of understanding with the U.S. Department of State to begin “sports diplomacy” initiatives, further integrating the UFC into official government policy and soft power strategy.

“UFC athletes and coaches will serve as sports ambassadors through the Department of State’s Sports Envoy program, which will include leading training clinics for young international athletes,” read a portion of the State Department press release.

Meanwhile, the UFC has also been lobbying Congress to pass the Muhammad Ali Boxing Revival Act, which would effectively modify existing legislation that protects boxers from exploitative promoters to allow Zuffa Boxing to implement the UFC’s exploitative business model in boxing. The bill passed the House with bipartisan support, including from former MMA fighter-turned-Democrtic congresswoman Sharice Davids, but may face difficulty in the Senate. However, with Trump’s support, the bill is likely to pass, further cementing the UFC’s stranglehold over combat sports.

During Trump’s first term, the UFC began propagating the lie that the U.S. president was instrumental to the UFC’s survival during a dark period in its history. It is a lie that continues to be repeated, including by mainstream outlets that should know better. By 2020, the UFC actively campaigned for Trump, and, when he attempted to steal the election and incited an insurrection, helped rehabilitate his image by welcoming him back on UFC broadcasts. It was here that Trump truly came to appreciate the UFC’s cultural cache and its sway over young, apathetic men in a post-Covid world, and rode that wave back to the White House in 2024.

Since then, the UFC has been rewarded handsomely for its loyalty, not least by becoming the first professional sports brand to host an event at the White House. And though the White House event may appear as though it is the final triumph of the UFC-Trump alliance, it is actually the first act of an entirely new, darker, chapter—one which boils down to a single governing principle: might is right.

This is not an accident. The UFC presents itself as a meritocracy; an arena where the toughest person reigns supreme, and where underdogs can have their shot at glory if they work hard enough. This is in keeping with the conservative pick-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps mentality, where individual success trumps the collective good. Look no further than the UFC Freedom 250 main event, where Justin Gaethje pulled off an American upset for the ages.

Despite entering the cage as a 6-1 underdog, Gaethje battered Ilia Topuria so thoroughly that Topuria’s corner threw in the towel after the fourth round. It was a shocking end to the reign of an undefeated champion widely regarded as the best fighter in the world.

Gaethje was supposed to have no chance. He won anyway. That is the enduring appeal of mixed martial arts: on any given night, the impossible can become inevitable.

And, according to Gaethje, that logic is quintessentially American. So is the violence.

“I’m from America,” he said after the fight. “Two hundred and fifty years ago we were way bigger underdogs and look at us thriving now.”

Sports Politika is a media platform dedicated to the intersection of sports, power and politics. If you like what you see, upgrade to a paid subscription (or gift a subscription if you already have your own). We would appreciate if you could also like the post and let us know what you think in the comment section below.

If you share this vision, please consider supporting my work by joining becoming a paid subscriber.

Subscribe now

Welcome to Sports Politika, a media venture founded by investigative journalist and researcher Karim Zidan that strives to help you understand how sports and politics shape the world around us. My mission is to offer an independent platform for accessible journalism that raises awareness and empowers understanding.

If you share this vision, please consider supporting my work by joining becoming a paid subscriber.

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On Friday, June 12—less than 48 hours ahead of the White House propaganda spectacle known as UFC Freedom 250—the Ultimate Fighting Championship (UFC) announced a partnership with a controversial defense tech start-up known for developing AI-powered war machines and sentry towers used to surveil the U.S.-Mexico border.

Anduril Industries is an American military technology company that was co-founded in 2017 by Palmer Luckey, the founder of the Oculus virtual reality company. Luckey sold Oculus to Meta for $2 billion in 2014 but was reportedly pressured to leave Meta after he donated to an organization built to spread anti-Hillary Clinton internet memes in the run-up to the 2016 presidential election.

Backed by venture capital funds including Peter Thiel’s Founders Fund, which provided the initial seed funding, Anduril has focused on creating autonomous warfare systems and surveillance technology that incorporate AI with robotics.

According to a press release issued by the UFC, Anduril will become the “official partner” of the UFC Freedom 250 event at the White House on June 14, as well as UFC 330 in August.

Anduril will also work with Zuffa Boxing—the UFC and Saudi joint effort to reshape boxing— to stage a “competition celebrating the proud boxing traditions of America’s military academies.” Military boxers will compete on the official fight card before fellow service members and supporters, with tickets distributed broadly throughout the military community.

“As a company that represents innovation, ambition, and a forward-looking vision, Anduril is a natural fit for TKO,” said Michael DiNuzzo, Vice President, Head of U.S. Business Development at the UFC.

Named after the sword in The Lord of the Rings that was reforged to fight Sauron and the forces of evil, Anduril views itself as the next frontier in how the U.S. and its allies will defend themselves from their enemies. Its ongoing projects include “Fury,” an AI-powered semi-autonomous unmanned combat aerial vehicle designed to operate alongside a manned aircraft. According to Anduril, Fury has the “flexibility to integrate a variety of first or third-party sensors and payloads to support the mission requirements.”

Anduril has also manufactured drones and surveillance tech that is being used at the U.S. border, including the AL-based surveillance towers dubbed the “Sentry.” As of 2024, the Sentry provides coverage for approximately 30% of the U.S. southern land border.

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Welcome to Sports Politika, a media venture founded by investigative journalist and researcher Karim Zidan that strives to help you understand how sports and politics shape the world around us. My mission is to offer an independent platform for accessible journalism that raises awareness and empowers understanding.

If you share this vision, please consider supporting my work by joining becoming a paid subscriber.

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On a snowy December morning in Washington , DC., the global football community descended on the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts—America’s cultural centre—to attend the 2026 FIFA World Cup draw.

While the stated purpose of the event is to outline the groupings for the teams participating in the 2026 men’s World Cup, set to be held in the U.S., Canada, and Mexico, it was also a glitzy showcase like only America could produce. FIFA has booked a series of entertainers, including Andrea Bocelli, the Village People, Kevin Hart and “draw assistants” like Tom Brady, Shaquille O’Neal, Wayne Gretzky, and Aaron Judge, adding a layer of showmanship that made the event feel closer to an awards ceremony than a procedural draw.

Yet beyond the medley of musical interludes, choreographed segments, and polished stagecraft, one particular moment stood out above the rest: the moment when FIFA President Gianni Infantino announced U.S. President Donald Trump as the winner of the inaugural FIFA Peace Prize.

It was a strange decision on FIFA’s part. The organization’s own code of ethics demand a “duty of neutrality,” which means that FIFA officials were required to remain politically neutral when dealing with governmental institutions.” By offering a newly-created peace prize to the president of one of the host nations of the upcoming world cup, critics argued that FIFA had violated its own statutes, as well as its credibility.

FIFA framed the award as being given on behalf of more than five billion football fans worldwide, a sweeping claim meant to underscore the game’s unmatched audience and influence. Yet even as the applause echoed and the ceremony moved forward, a quieter question lingered in the background: by what process had this choice been made? No shortlist had been shared, no criteria beyond the broad mission statement had been detailed, and no voting mechanism had been explained.

Under Infantino, FIFA has become more centralized, its decision-making increasingly opaque and concentrated at the top. The FIFA Peace Prize, unveiled and awarded without any clear process, felt less like a global honour and more like a unilateral decree—an example of how power inside the organization is now exercised.

That approach is not happening in isolation. It aligns with the trajectory of the tournaments themselves. The 2030 World Cup will stretch across multiple locations, including Morocco, while 2034 is set for Saudi Arabia—hosts where image, authority, and centralized control are deeply embedded in how major events are staged.

So what can we do about it?

Listen to Ep. 5 of Power Plays to find out.

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Sports Politika is a media platform dedicated to the intersection of sports, power and politics. If you like what you see, upgrade to a paid subscription (or gift a subscription if you already have your own). We would appreciate if you could also like the post and let us know what you think in the comment section below.

Welcome to Sports Politika, a media venture founded by investigative journalist and researcher Karim Zidan that strives to help you understand how sports and politics shape the world around us. My mission is to offer an independent platform for accessible journalism that raises awareness and empowers understanding.

If you share this vision, please consider supporting my work by joining becoming a paid subscriber.

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As a kid growing up in the Middle East, the World Cup was a magical time.

Every four years, the tournament transformed Cairo’s streets into month-long gathering places for millions of fans. Old rivalries were resurrected and new friendships were formed over late-night matches at crowded shisha cafes and sporting clubs.

One of the rituals I remember vividly during those days was collecting and trading Panini stickers to complete my World Cup album. It was an obsession that started in 2002, when Egypt had a supermarket promotion with La Vache Qui Rit (The Laughing Cow), whereby you could find a batch of the sought-after football cards in each circular container of spreadable cheese. The promotion worked; I nagged my mother to buy dozens of La Vache Qui Rit containers so I could complete the album, which I still have to this day.

While Panini stickers have historically carried the hopes and faces of football stars, in Mexico, activists are using the same format to shine a spotlight on their loved ones who have been forcibly disappeared.

Mexico, which will co-host the 2026 edition of the FIFA World Cup alongside Canada and the United States, is in the midst of a longstanding crisis. The country’s National Registry recorded 134,460 missing persons, many of whom were forcibly recruited into drug cartels or were brutally murdered for resisting their fate. That figure is enough to fill the Azteca Stadium in Mexico City, which has a capacity of 83,000 people, one and a half times over.

The surge in disappearances over the past decade reflects the growing influence of organized crime across Mexico. Large areas of the country now fall under near-total control of the cartels, which often grow their ranks through forced recruitment. In order to avoid attracting the attention of the authorities, cartels dispose of corpses burying them in unmarked graves, incinerating them, or dissolving them in vats of acid.

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In the years leading up to the 2022 World Cup, the global spotlight was trained relentlessly on Qatar’s ambitious preparations. Stadiums rose from the desert. Roads, hotels, and metros were built. But behind the gleaming infrastructure lay a workforce of hundreds of thousands of migrant labourers—workers whose stories rarely made the front pages.

Amid this backdrop was Abdullah Ibhais, a Jordanian communications expert in his mid‑30s, a father of two young boys, and at one time a rising staffer within the Supreme Committee for Delivery and Legacy, the Qatari government body responsible for planning and delivering the World Cup. In 2019, his role involved managing media messaging about Qatar’s preparations, giving him an unusually close view of both the organization’s inner workings and the darker realities behind the World Cup build‑up.

Ibhais’s story did not begin in opposition to the World Cup—it began with a growing awareness of labour issues and a conviction that the truth mattered. In August 2019, tens of thousands of migrant workers employed on World Cup–related projects staged a strike in Doha after months of unpaid wages, confiscated passports, and harsh living conditions. Videos of demonstration lines and chanting men circulated online. Workers claimed they were building stadiums and fan accommodations for the World Cup, and their grievances could no longer be ignored.

Inside the Supreme Committee, Ibhais became one of the few voices urging transparency. Rather than deny the workers’ connections to World Cup projects, he argued, the organisation should publicly acknowledge the situation and focus on securing redress for the workers—especially since failure to do so risked fuelling global criticism at a time when international rights groups were already scrutinising conditions on construction sites. But his advocacy quickly drew unwelcome attention.

On 12 November 2019, Qatari State Security officers arrested Ibhais at a security office in northern Doha. He was 33 years old. His family later said authorities confiscated his electronic devices and interrogated him for days. According to Amnesty International documentation, he was not allowed effective legal counsel during his early questioning and was pressured into signing a “confession.”

The official charges were a dramatic departure from labour issues. Ibhais was accused of “misuse of public funds,” “bribery,” “collusion,” and “intentional damage to public funds”—allegations linked to a dispute over a tender for social media services within the Supreme Committee. Although his family and advocates insisted the charges were fabricated in retaliation for his outspoken criticism of migrant conditions, authorities maintained the case was about corruption and finance.

What followed was a sham of a trial.

During one appeal hearing, Qatar’s courts upheld his conviction despite the fact that his original “confession”—the prosecution’s central piece of evidence—had been retracted, with Ibhais claiming it was extracted under duress and without a lawyer present. Human Rights Watch noted that the court failed to investigate his allegations of coercion, effectively accepting the confession at face value. His sentence was eventually reduced on appeal to three years’ imprisonment, but only after he had already spent much of that time in custody and under travel ban restrictions. Human‑rights advocates emphasized that the real reason for his detention appeared to be precisely what he had warned about: pressure to spin the narrative around migrant worker abuses rather than confront them.

While Ibhais was in prison, his case galvanized international attention. In July 2024, a United Nations Working Group on Arbitrary Detention determined that his detention was arbitrary and called for his immediate release and compensation, citing violations of his right to a fair trial and suggesting his prosecution was linked to his criticism of migrant conditions rather than genuine criminal conduct. The ruling pointed to alleged threats, physical abuse during interrogation, and coercion to secure a confession as central concerns.

At various points during his imprisonment, his family issued public appeals calling on FIFA to act on his behalf. In a letter made public during his detention, his relatives argued that FIFA’s silence and lack of intervention made the sport’s governing body “responsible for his life, safety and well‑being,” noting that he had been targeted only after internal criticism of how workers’ protests were handled. Remarkably, Ibhais’s ordeal continued even after high‑profile documentaries and journalistic exposés drew global scrutiny. In some accounts, his family and rights groups alleged he was mistreated and even tortured, including being held in darkness and extreme conditions as punishment for participating in media projects that exposed labour abuses. These allegations were denied by Qatari authorities, who maintained the charges and trial were lawful, but they underscored how contentious and politically charged his case had become internationally.

By 2025, Ibhais had been released after roughly three years in detention, but his fight was far from over. In interviews with outlets such as Forbes, he declared his intention to sue both FIFA and the Supreme Committee, arguing that his punishment was a direct consequence of speaking up about labour abuses and that both organizations had failed to protect him despite knowing the risks he faced.

Beyond the specifics of his own case, Ibhais’s story became emblematic of broader tensions around freedom of expression, labour rights, and accountability in the context of the World Cup. Ibhais was also supposed to speak at the 2026 Oslo Freedom Forum in June but had his passport confiscated by Jordanian officials at Qatar’s behest, emphasizing the Gulf state’s continued efforts at transnational repression.

Here are some of the details, as published by the Human Rights Foundation:

On May 10, 2026, Jordanian authorities at Queen Alia International Airport detained Ibhais for nearly three hours upon his return from speaking at Nordic Media Days in Bergen, Norway. Officials questioned him extensively about his public engagements, confiscated his passport, and summoned him to the General Intelligence Directorate (GID) headquarters in Amman.

During multiple subsequent visits to the GID headquarters to retrieve his passport, authorities subjected Ibhais to prolonged questioning by unidentified officers. He was informed that a previous understanding allowing him to discuss his arbitrary detention in Qatar was being revoked. Authorities instructed him to cancel all planned public engagements, including his upcoming participation at the Oslo Freedom Forum, and to cease all commentary regarding Qatar’s hosting of the 2022 FIFA World Cup, his personal legal case, and the conditions of migrant workers.

The interrogations heavily centered on his public advocacy. Officers accused him of misrepresenting his treatment in Qatari custody and repeatedly dismissed the findings of the United Nations Working Group on Arbitrary Detention, which had previously ruled his imprisonment in Qatar as arbitrary and a violation of international law.

Authorities then pressured Ibhais to sign a written pledge committing to total public silence regarding Qatar. Following his refusal, officers warned of a potential travel ban, prolonged administrative detention, and blacklisting. They threatened to charge him with “disturbing relations with a brotherly country” and ensure that he would spend seven years in prison.

Despite being unable to travel in person, Ibhais still appeared remotely to deliver his speech at the Oslo Freedom Forum.

Listen to Ep. 4 of Power Plays to learn more about Ibhais’ case.

Sports Politika is a media platform dedicated to the intersection of sports, power and politics. If you like what you see, upgrade to a paid subscription (or gift a subscription if you already have your own). We would appreciate if you could also like the post and let us know what you think in the comment section below.

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If you share this vision, please consider supporting my work by joining becoming a paid subscriber. We are currently offering 60% off annual subscriptions to celebrate Sports Politika’s third anniversary. Don’t miss out!

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Kirsten Lebrun has worked at the Pan Pacific Hotel in downtown Vancouver for thirteen years. She has served guests through a pandemic, labour disputes, and the slow, grinding process of negotiating the first union contract. Since February 2021, Lebrun and her colleagues have been part of UNITE HERE Local 40, which represents workers in the hotel, food service, and airport industries throughout British Columbia.

“Our last [interim] contract ended in June of last year. It’s been almost a year with no contract and almost two years with no raise,” said Lebrun.

She was one of dozens of workers who marched outside the hotel, across from the Vancouver Convention Centre, where football officials were gathered for the 76th annual FIFA Congress on April 30. Pan Pacific was one of the three hotels where delegates were staying for the event, considered the kickoff to this summer’s World Cup. According to Lebrun, the hotel is projected to bring in around $45 million from pre-bookings alone, driven by a record-breaking cruise season and the upcoming FIFA World Cup, which features seven matches in Vancouver.

Yet, Lebrun and her colleagues are still fighting for an agreement with fair wages and working conditions that allow them to afford the city they live in.

“With the price of gas, food, rent, mortgage rate and everything that’s going on. It’s just not sustainable to be left behind,” she said. Their dispute is part of a broader movement in the province’s hospitality sector, marked by a recent wave of unionization, strikes and pressure campaigns.

In the last nine months alone, five new Metro Vancouver hotels have voted to join the union. After months of organizing, workers at the Hyatt Alberni secured an agreement in December 2025 that included a pension, job security provisions, and wages up to $40 an hour. In Victoria, Coast Victoria Hotel workers struck for 77 days, in what became the longest hotel strike and lockout in the city’s history, before winning wage increases of up to 21 per cent in November 2025.

The last two times that Lebrun and her colleagues rallied, their employer called them immediately after and set up negotiations. But talks largely stalled.

“We just want to be at the same level as the other hotels,” she said. “We’re far behind, and they have not kept up with inflation.”

The rally outside the Pan Pacific was one of two protests that converged on the FIFA Congress in late April. Steps away, a coalition of Downtown Eastside advocates, including housing lawyers, harm reduction workers, and police oversight groups, held a press conference outlining their concerns.

The Downtown Eastside is one of Vancouver’s oldest and poorest neighbourhoods, sitting in the shadow of BC Place Stadium, where the games will be played. Home to generations of low-income residents, Indigenous people, and people experiencing homelessness, it is also one of the most overpoliced and surveilled communities in Canada. Residents are subjected to frequent “street sweeps,” during which city workers, often accompanied by police officers, move through the neighbourhood, clearing people’s tents, makeshift homes, and personal belongings, and throwing them into garbage bins or trucks. Many lose essential items, including medications, ID, clothing and even irreplaceable items like Indigenous art and the ashes of deceased loved ones. While the city insists it has no plans to displace people for the World Cup, critics see it otherwise.

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Welcome to Sports Politika, a media venture founded by investigative journalist and researcher Karim Zidan that strives to help you understand how sports and politics shape the world around us. My mission is to offer an independent platform for accessible journalism that raises awareness and empowers understanding.

If you share this vision, please consider supporting my work by joining becoming a paid subscriber.

Subscribe now

On December 2, 2010, inside FIFA headquarters in Zurich, the organization’s executive committee voted to award the 2018 FIFA World Cup to Russia and the 2022 tournament to Qatar.

It was the first time the World Cup would be staged in Eastern Europe and in the Arab Gulf. It was also the first time that the world’s most prestigious mega-event would be held in back-to-back authoritarian states, altering the trajectory of world football for a generation.

To understand how Russia secured the World Cup, one must first understand the system that made it possible, including the man at the organization’s helm: Sepp Blatter.

Born in Visp, Switzerland in 1936, Blatter joined FIFA in 1975 after a varied career that included roles as head of public relations for the tourist board of Visp, as well as general secretary of the Swiss Ice Hockey Federation. He became FIFA president in 1998, succeeding Havelange after spending 17 years as FIFA’s general secretary.

Following in Havelange’s footsteps, Blatter consolidated authority within an organization already criticized for patronage politics. He expanded development funding to smaller federations, building loyalty across Africa, Asia, and the Caribbean.

But the same centralized power that fuelled FIFA’s growth also cultivated corruption. By the early 2000s, accusations of bribery and vote-buying were common. The 2010 vote awarding the World Cups to Russia and Qatar became a flashpoint. Critics pointed to Russia’s limited infrastructure at the time, concerns about governance and human rights, and the scale of investment required.

In 2015, just three years before Russia’s tournament, U.S. authorities unsealed sweeping indictments against FIFA officials in a corruption probe. Several executives were arrested in Zurich. Although Blatter initially survived, he resigned soon after amid mounting pressure and was later banned from football for ethics violations.

By the time Russia hosted in 2018, the man who had presided over its selection was gone but the political architecture he built remained intact, ready to be manipulated by one of the world’s most cunning and ruthless autocrats.

Sport, too, became central to Putin’s vision for a post-Soviet Russia. Mega-events like the 2014 Winter Olympics in Sochi offered an unprecedented platform to celebrate Putin’s Russia—an enormous showcase of infrastructure and spectacle. It worked, with the world celebrating Russia’s return to the liberal order.

Four days after the closing ceremony for the 2014 Winter Games, Russian soldiers began their military operation to annex Crimea, then international recognized as part of Ukraine.

The annexation of Crimea put an end to much of the goodwill that Russia had received from hosting the Winter Games. Western sanctions crippled its economy; diplomatic expulsions followed as Russia faced strained relations with much of Europe and the United States.

It was precisely in this climate of Cold-War esque geopolitical tension that Russia began preparing to host the 2018 World Cup.

Russia committed roughly $11–12 billion to stadium construction, transportation upgrades, and urban development across 11 host cities, from Kaliningrad on the Baltic to Yekaterinburg near the Urals. New stadiums rose in Moscow, St. Petersburg, and beyond. Airports were renovated. High-speed rail lines improved connections.

Russian authorities sought to counter narratives of isolation and authoritarianism by presenting a welcoming, efficient, culturally vibrant nation. State media emphasized hospitality. Visa-free Fan IDs simplified travel. Volunteers were trained to greet foreigners warmly.

But skepticism remained. International outlets questioned Russia’s human rights record, its anti-LGBTQ+ legislation, and the threat posed by organized hooligan groups. Several Russian host cities faced international criticism over reports that authorities were killing stray dogs in an effort to present a cleaner image to visiting fans.

Russia also moved to rein in one of its most notorious subcultures: organized football hooliganism. Russian fan groups had drawn international scrutiny after violent clashes with England supporters at Euro 2016 in Marseille, fueling concerns that similar disorder could erupt on home soil. Determined to avoid embarrassment during a tournament meant to showcase a modern, controlled Russia, Vladimir Putin’s government adopted a far tougher stance. Authorities expanded surveillance, imposed travel bans on known troublemakers, strengthened stadium security laws, and worked closely with security services to monitor extremist fan networks.

The crackdown reflected a broader pattern in Putin’s governance—permitting displays of aggressive patriotism when useful, but swiftly suppressing them when they threatened state control or international prestige.

The World Cup had thus become an exercise in soft power.

Listen to Episode 3 of Power Plays on your favourite podcast platform now.

Sports Politika is a media platform dedicated to the intersection of sports, power and politics. If you like what you see, upgrade to a paid subscription (or gift a subscription if you already have your own). We would appreciate if you could also like the post and let us know what you think in the comment section below.

Welcome to Sports Politika, a media venture founded by investigative journalist and researcher Karim Zidan that strives to help you understand how sports and politics shape the world around us. My mission is to offer an independent platform for accessible journalism that raises awareness and empowers understanding.

If you share this vision, please consider supporting my work by joining becoming a paid subscriber. We are currently offering 60% off annual subscriptions to celebrate Sports Politika’s third anniversary. Don’t miss out!

Get 60% off forever

The 1970 FIFA World Cup in Mexico arrived at a moment when Brazil was living two parallel realities.

On one side stood the most luminous national football team the world had ever seen: a Seleção whose fluid, joyous style felt like an expression of freedom itself. On the other stood a military dictatorship that had seized power in 1964 and, by the end of the decade, hardened into one of the most repressive regimes in Latin America. Football became the bridge between those realities.

General Emílio Garrastazu Médici, who assumed the presidency in 1969, understood that football was Brazil’s closest equivalent to a secular faith, capable of commanding loyalty that politics alone could not. That belief shaped his courtship of Pelé and his approach to the 1970 World Cup. Brazil’s eventual victory proved that football could polish authoritarian power.

By the time the 1978 World Cup began, Argentina was deep into the Dirty War. The military junta led by General Jorge Rafael Videla had seized power in 1976 and unleashed a campaign of systematic terror. Tens of thousands were abducted into a network of detention centers where torture and execution were routine. Yet Argentina had been awarded the World Cup long before the coup, and the generals quickly recognized its value. Football was declared a matter of “national interest,” and the regime worked relentlessly to present Argentina as stable, modern, and united.

When Argentina won the final against the Netherlands, the image that lingered was not just Daniel Passarella lifting the trophy, but Videla standing beside him. FIFA president João Havelange handed the cup to the dictator, who then passed it to his players—a symbolic chain that emphasized FIFA’s role in propping up these military regimes.

Since being elected FIFA President in 1974, Havelange set about changing FIFA’s internal culture. Instead of following the ethos of Jules Rimet, who prized the dignity of sport, Havelange—the son of an arms dealer—was far more transactional. He prized loyalty, discretion, and deal-making over transparency. In that environment, authoritarian regimes made for excellent bedfellows.

In those years, football crossed a threshold. It remained a game capable of beauty and transcendence, but it also became a tool of statecraft, propaganda, and institutional power. The cheers were real. The goals were real. But so was the silence that surrounded them—and the structures that learned how to use it.

Listen to Episode 2 of Power Plays to learn more about this pivotal time in FIFA history.

Sports Politika is a media platform dedicated to the intersection of sports, power and politics. If you like what you see, upgrade to a paid subscription (or gift a subscription if you already have your own). We would appreciate if you could also like the post and let us know what you think in the comment section below.