The FIFA Men’s World Cup of 2026 was always going to offer visitors and spectators something different. Shared between three countries – Mexico, Canada and the United States – the latter of the three was set to be the designated font of mischief and disruptive mayhem. Add to this the rapacity of the world footballing body on ticket pricing, and we have a tournament foundering even before the first ball is kicked.
Of nagging concern are the various travel impediments that have been impressed upon ticket holders. Previous tournaments have seen FIFA mint arrangements with host countries granting exemptions on various immigration and entry requirements. Brazil permitted free temporary visas for ticket holders for the 2014 tournament. Russia and Qatar permitted entry with Fan IDs and Hayya cards, documentation sweetened with the offer of free public transport.
Analysis of US State Department data conducted by the BBC reveals a visa rejection rate greater than 40% for 11 of the 48 countries that have qualified. (The 11 in question comprise Ecuador, Egypt, Haiti, Algeria, Uzbekistan, Cape Verde, Jordan, Iran, Democratic Republic of the Congo, Ghana and Senegal.) This percentage includes applicants of all types. The rejection rate for B1 business and B2 tourist visa applications for all countries – the type suggested for fans travelling to the tournament – comes in at a far from negligible 34%.
While citizens from 42 countries can travel to the US on the Electronic System for Travel Authorization (ESTA), a feature of the Visa Waiver Program (VWP), the status of some recipients has become hazy. Despite receiving approval months in advance, a growing number of intending visitors now see their status as reverting to “pending”. In some cases, revocation has taken place. Scotland football supporter Michael Wright, for instance, found out an hour prior to his flight that his travel permit had ceased to exist, having moved from “approved” to “pending”, culminating at the gloomy terminus of “travel not authorised”. No reasons for the change of heart were offered. BBC Scotland News has also reported the same fate befalling a number of Tartan Army supporters.
Acting assistant secretary of US Homeland Security Lauren Bis explained in comments to the BBC that “the Trump administration is enforcing immigration laws”. ESTA applications were “continuously vetted against law enforcement and security databases.” Travellers were expected to “provide complete and truthful information, including all criminal history.”
Football supporters from over a quarter of the countries participating in the tournament are also facing onerous restrictions, if not complete travel bans. Julien Kouadio Adonis of the Ivory Coast’s fan association, the National Committee for the Support of the Elephants, did not need any convincing about what such bans meant: “It’s a form of segregation that doesn’t dare speak its name, but the proof is there.” Abu Kass, head of the football fans association for Jordan, could also add his name to the burgeoning number of rejections from his country. “This World Cup,” he ruminated glumly, “is not ours.”
Celine Atallah of the Atallah Law Group, a Massachusetts legal firm specialising in immigration law relevantly calls the visa system “the invisible gatekeeper of the World Cup.” FIFA may well sell the tickets “but the US government decides who gets a visa, and CBP [Customs and Border Protection] decides who actually enters.”
That gatekeeper proved rather aggressive in holding up the Iraqi striker and vice-captain Aymen Hussein, who was detained for almost seven hours at Chicago’s O’Hare airport after arriving with his fellow teammates and staff entourage. The team photographer, Talal Salah, was even less fortunate, denied entry following a detention period of 10 hours and a search of his phone.
Officials are also finding themselves blocked from making the visit. Omar Artan, a referee from Somalia, was refused entry after arriving in Miami. A terse statement from FIFA on the refusal suggested an absolute unwillingness to question the decision. “FIFA is not involved in host country immigration processes, including visa adjudications … a host government ultimately determines who receives a visa and who is admitted to their country.” FIFA President Gianni Infantino could only describe the barring of Artan as “unfortunate”. “We are not the kings of the world who can rule over governments and police forces. We are a sports organisation.” Artan proved far more diplomatic in his remarks to reporters on arriving in the Somali capital, Mogadishu. “What happened has happened and it was fate. I am grateful for the support FIFA gave me.”
Andrew Giuliani, head of the White House World Cup task force, sought to muddy the waters with a dash of libel and some crass lingo. “Anyone who is communicating with bad actors that plan harm against the United States of America are not gonna be admitted entrance.” An official of the administration, shielding behind the comforts of anonymity, claimed that Artan had consorted with “suspected members of terror organizations.” Nothing by way of detail was provided, which did little to impress Ilham Gasser, a Somali parliamentarian. “Many Somalians feel he has been unfairly treated. If these were genuine concerns that an individual had links to terror organizations, many Somalians are asking, why were those concerns not identified in the visa process?”
This is a tournament deserving lofty dismissal for its shabby organisation, its extortionate pricing, and its ringing prejudices. Former England and Arsenal striker Ian Wright is already convinced he is witnessing the “World Cup of Chaos.” But Infantino, as he so often does, is reading a different script. He extols a vision moribund if not altogether entombed. “We want to unite the world,” he adamantly insists, seeing as its triumph the fact that the Iranian football team was permitted to participate in the tournament. He will have to do better than that.
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