A Gated World Cup

By Nancy Roc

Haiti waited more than half a century to return to the World Cup. For a country that has survived dictatorship, disasters, exile, abandonment and political humiliation, seeing the Grenadiers back on soccer’s biggest stage should have been pure joy.

A national exhale.

A moment when Haitians, wherever they live, could look at the flag and say: we are here again.
But for many Haitian fans, the dream has already stopped far from the stadium - at the price of a ticket, at a consular window, at the edge of an American border.

There lies the betrayal of the 2026 World Cup.

FIFA sold this tournament as the most inclusive in history: 48 teams, 104 matches, three host countries and a promise that the game would finally look more like the world it claims to unite [1]. Gianni Infantino once described it as a celebration of “togetherness and unity,” a tournament of massive scale meant to bring continents and generations together [2].

On paper, the slogan works. More teams. More matches. More countries. More flags.

But what does inclusion mean if the people carrying those flags cannot get in?

The first wall is money. FIFA has promoted a limited category of $60 tickets, designed to suggest accessibility [3]. But those tickets represent only a tiny fraction of available seats, while dynamic pricing has pushed many matches far beyond the reach of ordinary fans [4]. In some cases, tickets have climbed into the hundreds or even thousands of dollars.

The people’s game has become a luxury product.

Even the images have started to betray the spectacle. Empty seats at early matches renewed criticism that FIFA’s pricing strategy had made the tournament inaccessible to many of the communities it claims to celebrate [5]. A World Cup can still fill television screens. That does not mean it belongs to the people.

The second wall is harder, colder and more political: visas.

The United States is hosting most of the tournament, including the final. But it is also a country whose immigration system treats much of the Global South not as guests, but as risks. For fans from several qualified nations, especially in Africa, Asia and the Caribbean, buying a ticket has not guaranteed a path to the stadium. It has merely opened the door to interviews, fees, delays, refusals and suspicion.

According to the Council on Foreign Relations, several countries that qualified for the 2026 World Cup are directly affected by U.S. travel restrictions, including Haiti and Iran, while others face partial restrictions [6]. Fans from those countries may be unable to attend U.S.-based matches unless they are also U.S. residents or dual nationals.

In other words, FIFA can sell the dream. Washington decides who is allowed to live it.

That reality is especially cruel for Haitians. Haiti is back in the World Cup for the first time since 1974. For a people scattered by violence, poverty and exile, this return should have been a rare moment of collective pride. Instead, many Haitian fans feel excluded by the brutal combination of expensive tickets, travel costs and U.S. immigration restrictions [7].

The message is humiliating: Haiti’s players are welcome on the field, but many Haitian supporters are expected to cheer from outside the gates.

The country’s story is useful for the tournament’s diversity narrative. Its people, less so.

Other delegations have faced their own version of the same absurdity. Iranian officials criticized FIFA after visa problems disrupted their team’s preparation, forcing a last-minute move from Arizona to Tijuana and leaving staff and journalists unable to enter the United States [8]. If even a national team’s own personnel can be caught in immigration chaos, what chance does an ordinary supporter have?

Even match officials have not been spared. The case of Somali referee Omar Abdulkadir Artan, reportedly refused entry to the United States despite his role in the tournament, exposed the contradiction at the heart of this World Cup [9]. How can a tournament claim to represent the planet when one of its own officials can be stopped at the border?

Infantino’s response made matters worse.

Asked about visa problems and ticket prices on the eve of the tournament, the FIFA president told people to “chill, relax,” while insisting that FIFA does not control immigration decisions [10]. Technically, he is right. FIFA does not issue visas.

But that answer is too easy.

FIFA chose this hosting structure. FIFA awarded most of the matches to the United States. FIFA built a tournament that depends on a country whose immigration policies are now deciding which fans, officials and families can enter. To hide behind bureaucracy after selling unity is not leadership. It is evasion.

And then there is Haiti’s jersey.

As if the visa barriers were not enough, FIFA reportedly asked Haiti to modify its World Cup shirt because some visual elements could be interpreted politically under equipment rules [11]. The manufacturer said the design was meant to celebrate Haitian pride, resilience and national spirit.

Apparently, even that was too much.

For Haiti, this is not a minor detail. A country born from the world’s first successful slave revolt knows very well that its memory has always made others uncomfortable. But must even a football jersey be stripped of historical meaning before Haiti is allowed to reappear on the world stage?

That is the deeper wound of this World Cup. The tournament is bigger than ever, but not freer. It is more global in its branding, but more selective in its access. It invites the world to play, then allows borders, prices and politics to decide who may witness the celebration.

The stadiums will still roar. The broadcasts will still break records. FIFA will count the matches, the viewers, the sponsors and the money. Donald Trump will present the event as proof of American power. Infantino will repeat the language of unity.

But for those left outside - the Haitian fan without a visa, the African supporter priced out, the Iranian staff member blocked, the Somali referee refused at the border - the message is painfully clear.

This is not the world’s World Cup.

It is a gated World Cup.

And at the gate, the beautiful game has started choosing who belongs.

References
[1] FIFA, “FIFA World Cup 2026 — Matches, schedule, fixtures and stadiums.”
[2] FIFA, “President Infantino hails ‘togetherness and unity’ message as 2026 Brand revealed,” May 18, 2023.
[3] FIFA, “New ticket pricing tier introduced for fans,” December 16, 2025.
[4] The Guardian, “New York and New Jersey subpoena FIFA over ‘manipulated’ World Cup ticketing,” May 27, 2026.
[5] Reuters, “Empty seats at World Cup match renews concerns over ticket prices,” June 12, 2026.
[6] Council on Foreign Relations, “FIFA World Cup 2026: The Geopolitical Tensions at Play Off the Pitch,” April 15, 2026.
[7] Al Jazeera, “World Cup 2026: Haiti fans feel excluded from first tournament since 1974,” May 23, 2026.
[8] Reuters, “Iran team chief slams FIFA’s ‘lack of coordination’ on visa issues,” June 12, 2026.
[9] Reuters, “Somali soccer referee denied US entry, will miss World Cup debut,” June 8, 2026.
[10] Reuters, “Infantino tells everyone to ‘chill’ over FIFA’s handling of visa issues,” June 11, 2026.
[11] Al Jazeera, “Haiti forced to change World Cup 2026 kit over war imagery,” June 11, 2026.