FIFA World Cup: the team that wasn't really welcome

The FIFA World Cup is marketed as a celebration of global unity. Every four years, nations set aside their differences, athletes become ambassadors, and football is supposed to remind us of our shared humanity.

Yet Iran's opening World Cup match against New Zealand in Los Angeles exposed a less comfortable reality: in today's world, some nations are welcomed more enthusiastically than others.

Before a ball was kicked, before supporters entered the stadium, and before television cameras began broadcasting images of cheering fans, politics had already shaped Iran's tournament.

Unlike most participating teams, Iran reportedly was unable to establish a normal training base in the United States. Instead, players and staff remained in Mexico until shortly before the match and were expected to depart almost immediately afterward. Iranian officials complained of visa complications, ticketing disputes and restrictions affecting supporters. Coaches expressed concerns about unequal treatment.

Whatever explanation one accepts, the practical consequences are difficult to ignore.

Elite athletes depend upon preparation, routine and recovery. Teams normally arrive days before major matches to acclimatise, train and adjust to local conditions. They recover after matches before traveling onward. Such routines are not luxuries; they are part of modern elite sport.

Iran, however, found itself operating under different conditions.

The issue is not whether one supports or opposes the government in Tehran. People of good faith can disagree profoundly about Iranian politics.

The issue is whether international sporting events should be governed by principles of equality or by geopolitical calculations.

The symbolism matters because the World Cup is about more than football. It is one of the few events where nations encounter one another outside the framework of diplomacy, war or economics. When unequal treatment becomes visible, it sends a message that extends far beyond sport.

Inside SoFi Stadium, those geopolitical tensions were mirrored within the Iranian diaspora itself.

The overwhelming support for Team Melli was unmistakable. Iranian flags filled the stadium. Every attack generated excitement, and every goal was met with thunderous applause. Yet beneath that support lay deep divisions.

One of the most visible flashpoints involved the lion-and-sun flag associated with pre-revolutionary Iran. Although FIFA had prohibited the flag, it was visible throughout the venue. Security personnel repeatedly approached spectators carrying it and asked them to remove it. Many refused.

More troubling, however, was the hostility directed at spectators carrying Iran's official national flag.

My eight-year-old son was among them.

Several adults confronted him because of the flag he carried. Other children and women carrying the same flag appeared to face similar hostility. Security personnel intervened on multiple occasions.

The irony was striking. Many of those objecting to Iran's official flag were openly displaying a flag that FIFA itself had prohibited.

For many members of the Iranian diaspora, opposition to the government is deeply personal. Some have experienced imprisonment, exile, or the loss of loved ones. Their grievances are real and deserve recognition.

Yet opposition to a government is not the same as opposition to the people.

That distinction is increasingly being lost - not only in discussions about Iran but throughout international politics.

We have seen it in attitudes toward Palestinians, Israelis, Russians, Chinese, and others. Governments become conflated with populations. Citizens become extensions of state policy. Entire peoples become judged through the actions of rulers they may neither support nor control.

Once that happens, collective punishment becomes easier to justify.

The logic is familiar. Restrictions on mobility become acceptable. Unequal treatment becomes understandable. Human rights become conditional.

This is where the broader significance of Iran's World Cup experience emerges.

During the 2022 World Cup in Qatar, Western media and governments devoted enormous attention to labour rights, freedom of expression and discrimination. Much of that scrutiny was justified.

Yet consistency remains elusive.

Many who spoke passionately about human rights in Qatar have been noticeably quieter about immigration restrictions, political vetting, visa denials and growing limitations on dissent within Western democracies.

The issue is not whether Qatar deserved criticism. It did. The issue is whether the same standards are applied when similar concerns arise closer to home. Human rights lose their moral force when they become selective.

Sport cannot solve geopolitical conflicts. Nor should it pretend to. But international sporting events should aspire to principles of fairness, dignity and equal treatment.

Iran's World Cup experience serves as a reminder of how far we remain from those ideals.

A nation is not its government. People are not their rulers. The moment we forget that distinction, we begin abandoning the very values that international sport claims to celebrate.