The Winter Olympics in Italy have ended, and the Winter Paralympics are ending March 15. But the political storm and protests that the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement stirred up have not been forgotten.

With the FIFA World Cup set to bring millions of international fans to North America, the Olympics backlash now feels less like an isolated controversy and more like a warning of what could lie ahead.

The last Men's World Cup drew about 1 million international visitors in 2022 to Qatar. The 2026 tournament – 48 teams hosted across Canada, Mexico and the United States from June 11 through July 19 – is expected to attract several times that number, making it the largest in the history of football, what Americans call soccer.

The success of this world soccer tournament will hinge not only on logistics and policing, but also on whether teams and supporters feel welcome, safe and able to move across borders within tight time frames. That confidence is now under scrutiny.

ICE will be 'a key part of the overall security apparatus for the World Cup'

Acting ICE Director Todd Lyons has said that the agency will be “a key part of the overall security apparatus for the World Cup."

Yet when immigration enforcement becomes visibly woven into the staging of a global tournament, it ceases to look like routine security and instead risks appearing as a projection of domestic policy onto an international stage.

Already there are increasing calls to avoid the event for safety reasons, with fan groups like Football Supporters Europe expressing concern of the "ongoing militarization of police forces" in the United States. A major German team has canceled a U.S. tour, and online fan forums openly debate boycotts.

Meanwhile, supporters from Latin America, Africa and the Middle East are already asking whether a valid visa will be enough. Could minor paperwork errors lead to detention?

For mixed-status families living in the United States, the anxiety is sharper still.

Sport has always intersected with politics. The 1936 Berlin Olympics were carefully orchestrated by the Nazi regime to project ideological confidence and international legitimacy, even as discriminatory policies continued at home.

Decades later, the global boycott of apartheid South Africa – leading to the country’s barring from the 1964 Olympic Games ‒ showed that tournaments can reflect moral choices.

More recently, Russia was banned from the Winter Olympics after it invaded Ukraine in 2022. At the Milano Cortina Games, there were no Russian flags or anthems, but Russians were allowed to compete as neutral athletes. The same held true for Belarus, which supports Russia in the war.

However, the International Paralympic Committee voted to allow those nations' athletes to compete. And on March 9, the Russian national anthem was played at the Paralympics for the first time since 2014 as one of its skiers received a gold medal.

Iran is no longer sending athletes to compete in the World Cup

Now there's a new geopolitical complication. The escalating conflict between the United States and Iran has pulled soccer into the center of a war involving one of the tournament’s own host nations.

Since Feb. 28, U.S. and Israeli strikes have killed the nation's supreme leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, and dozens of top officials. Iran has responded with attacks on U.S. military facilities and other targets around the Middle East.

The Iranian sports minister, Ahmad Donyamali, has announced that his country is pulling out of the North American tournament: "Considering that this corrupt regime (the United States) has assassinated our leader, under no circumstances can we participate in the World Cup.”

Yet there is a difference between holding regimes accountable and turning sporting events into stages for domestic enforcement policy – a distinction that matters especially for America, whose global appeal has long rested on openness and pluralism.

The World Cup is a soft-power moment. For nearly six weeks, North America will present itself to billions of viewers not just as a host but also as a harmonious society ‒ a rare global moment when rival nations share rules, rituals and space on equal terms.

That is precisely why international bodies have treated football as a tool for cohesion rather than division. The United Nations has repeatedly promoted sport as a mechanism for refugee integration and social stability, while organizations working on counterextremism and discrimination ‒ including the Muslim World League under Secretary General Mohammed Al-Issa ‒ has similarly highlighted how athletics can cultivate “understanding, empathy and respect” across communities.

If enforcement spectacle overshadows the 2026 World Cup, the consequences will be economic as well as social. Travel hesitancy, empty seats and reduced tourism would be immediate effects.

But the deeper risk is political: Visible exclusion at a global event reinforces narratives of division and grievance that extremists on all sides are quick to exploit. When people feel unwelcome in shared civic spaces, mistrust grows ‒ and the integrative power that sport is meant to provide begins to erode.

That makes clarity from federal authorities essential. The U.S. Department of Homeland Security, the State Department and host city governments should coordinate to publish tournament-specific guidance covering visa processing timelines, entry procedures for ticket holders and the scope of enforcement activity around official venues.

Clear assurances that immigration sweeps will not be conducted at stadiums, accredited fan zones or public watch sites would reduce uncertainty without compromising border security.

For a country that prides itself on being a nation of immigrants ‒ and for a president who places great stock in ratings, turnout and global spectacle ‒ the 2026 World Cup presents an extraordinary opportunity to show that security and openness can coexist. Full stadiums and strong international attendance would reinforce the image of a confident, welcoming host nation.

Khalid Sayed is the leader of the opposition for the African National Congress in the Western Cape Provincial Parliament. A former provincial leader of the ANC Youth League and an experienced public servant who has represented South Africa internationally, he is a longstanding social activist committed to social cohesion and democratic renewal in a post-apartheid society.

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