Can football "unite the world"?

“Football unites the world", claimed the promotional material for the recent World Cup; yet we witnessed the opposite: attempts to rekindle memories of the Falklands War during the match between England and Argentina, Rajoy’s racist remarks against the French team and, during the final, the desire to restore the reputation of Pedro Sánchez’s socialist government in its crusade against the populism[1] of Trump and Milei — all this while, on the streets of the United States (the tournament’s host country), ICE raids resulted in the deaths of four migrants.

What football does, however, manage to unite is the population around the nation. At every match, supporters gathered — in cafés, on the streets or at home — to display national flags and symbols in defence of the homeland, symbolically re-enacting the dynamics of war.

In Spain — the ‘world champions’ — this nationalist fervour reached its peak, to the extent that Vox and far-right parties accused the left of ‘appropriating’ national symbols. We even saw renowned Spanish artists such as Bardem — despite being an advocate of ‘internationalism’ — chanting ‘I am Spanish, Spanish…’ from the stands. The only clashes between supporters (and there were some) arose from arguments over who was the greatest patriot or who best defended the nation. At the heart of this dynamic of collective delusion, the national team manager — a figure who had been complicit in FIFA’s corrupt practices and had applauded its leaders — was elevated to the status of a national hero. The team’s style of play — often tedious and repetitive — was hailed as the pinnacle of footballing strategy, whilst the lacklustre performances of the team’s star players were celebrated as the ultimate example of collective play, sacrificing individual genius in the name of unity. This stood in stark contrast to the treatment meted out to the ‘losers’ — such as France or England — who, despite having been praised for their aggressive and dynamic style, were subsequently humiliated and disparaged. We even witnessed, in a somewhat caricatured manner, how the world’s leading power attempts to impose its interests; the most striking example is the pressure exerted by Trump on Infantino to rescind the red card shown to a player on the US national team (a manoeuvre that ultimately succeeded).

In other articles on our website[2], we have argued that sport, in our time, is neither a cultural expression nor a means of developing human qualities – as was briefly observed in the workers’ walking and cycling clubs of the early 20th century – but rather a discipline that prepares individuals to endure exploitation and, ultimately, war.

Thus, football does not unite the world; on the contrary, it recreates a dynamic of national unity and confrontation between countries that serves as war propaganda.

Only the working class’s struggle for world revolution is capable of uniting the world – a class that knows neither borders nor gender distinctions. This competition, of course, has another aspect: the commercial spectacle. In this regard, the World Cup has broken records by imposing advertising breaks in the middle of matches — officially for the players’ hydration and wellbeing — whilst forcing them to play during the hottest hours of the day to meet broadcasting requirements, or compelling them to fly almost daily and travel thousands of kilometres to reach the venue of their next match. But that is another story.

Hic Rhodas (25 July)

[1] See the article on our French website Barcelone 2026: La fausse Internationale du progrès et de la paix dans un capitalisme qui sombre dans la guerre et le chaos

[2] See the series on our website: The History of Sport Under Capitalism (Part I) - Sport in the ascendant phase of capitalism (1750-1914)

The History of Sport Under Capitalism (Part II) - Sport in decadent capitalism (from 1914 to today)

The History of Sport Under Capitalism (Part III) - Sport, nationalism and imperialism