On January 6, a group of 25 British parliamentarians introduced a motion calling on world sports authorities to consider excluding the United States from hosting the 2026 FIFA World Cup until the United States demonstrates compliance with international law. The tournament, which is expected to draw millions of viewers, comes after weeks of mounting pressure across Europe over the political situation surrounding the tournament, which is a symbol of international cooperation.
Dutch broadcaster Teun van de Kouken has backed a public petition to withdraw from the competition, while French lawmaker Eric Coquerel has warned that participation risks legitimizing policies that he says undermine international human rights standards.
Much of the scrutiny has focused on US President Donald Trump’s crackdown on immigration and widespread attacks on civil liberties. The deaths of Minneapolis residents Renee Nicole Good and Alex Preti during an immigration crackdown in January sparked nationwide outrage and protests. At least eight people will be shot by federal immigration agents or killed in immigration custody in 2026.
These developments are serious, but they point to broader questions of power and responsibility that extend beyond domestic repression to the impact of U.S. foreign policy. The war in Gaza represents an even more serious emergency.
For decades, Washington has served as Israel’s most influential international ally, providing diplomatic protection, political support and about $3.8 billion in military aid annually. This partnership is funding and shaping the destruction currently unfolding across the Palestinian territories.
Since the war began on October 7, 2023, Israeli forces have killed more than 72,032 Palestinians, injured 171,661, and destroyed or severely damaged much of Gaza’s homes, schools, hospitals, water systems, and other basic civilian infrastructure. Nearly 90 percent of Gaza’s population (approximately 1.9 million people), many of whom have been repeatedly forced to flee due to bombing attacks across the enclave. Meanwhile, Israeli forces and armed settlers have increased raids, seized farmland, and imposed widespread movement restrictions across Palestinian communities in Jenin, Nablus, Hebron, and the Jordan Valley in the occupied West Bank.
By many accounts, Israel is committing genocide.
This momentous attack had deep historical resonance across the African continent, as organized sports competitions were often inseparable from liberation struggles.
On June 16, 1976, 15-year-old Hastings Ndlovu joined thousands of schoolchildren in Soweto protesting against forced Afrikaans education. By the end of the day, he was shot and killed by police as they opened fire on unarmed students marching through the neighborhood.
Ms. Hastings was murdered by a regime that saw African children not as students or human beings, but as political threats. Police killed 575 young men and injured thousands more that day, but the bloodshed did not disrupt diplomatic and sporting relations between the apartheid state and its Western allies.
Weeks later, as families buried their children with solemn funerals, New Zealand’s national rugby team, the All Blacks, landed at Johannesburg’s Jan Smuts Airport on June 25, ready to play a match in the isolated republic.
This visit provoked the anger of many young African governments. Within weeks, the backlash extended to the 1976 Montreal Olympics in Canada. Twenty-two African countries withdrew after President Michael Morris and the International Olympic Committee chose not to act against New Zealand.
After years of training, the athletes packed up and left Montreal’s Olympic Village, some having already competed. Morocco, Cameroon, Tunisia and Egypt started the tournament but withdrew after their governments urgently recalled their delegations.
Nigeria, Ghana and Zambia withdrew from the men’s soccer tournament, and first-round matches at Montreal’s Olympic Stadium and National Stadium collapsed midway through the tournament. Television viewers around the world saw what had been billed as a global event replaced by empty lanes and abandoned railroad tracks. More than 700 athletes have been disqualified from competing in the Olympics, including world record holder Philbert Baih of Tanzania (1,500m) and John Akii-Bua of Uganda (400m hurdles).
African leaders recognized the magnitude of the decision. Nevertheless, they concluded that their country’s participation in the Olympics “provides comfort and respectability to South Africa’s racist regime and encourages it to continue defying world opinion.”
This moment offers a defining lesson for 2026: Boycotts come at a cost. They require sacrifice, accommodation, and political courage. History has shown us that collective rejection can distract the world’s attention, forcing both organizations and audiences to confront injustices that might otherwise go unnoticed.
Nearly 50 years later, a similar ordeal is unfolding in Gaza, amid an escalating catastrophe with no end in sight.
Consider what happened to Sidra Hassouna, a seven-year-old Palestinian girl living in Rafah.
She and her family were killed in an Israeli airstrike on February 23, 2024, when their home was attacked during heavy shelling in southern Gaza.
Sidra’s story mirrors thousands of others, revealing the same truth: a childhood erased by shelling.
These killings were played out in front of a worldwide audience. Unlike in apartheid South Africa, Israel’s destruction of Gaza is reported in real time primarily through Palestinian journalists and citizen reporters, nearly 300 of whom were killed in Israeli airstrikes and artillery fire.
At the same time, the United States continues to supply Israel with arms, diplomatic support, and veto protection at the United Nations. President Trump’s civil liberties violations are serious, but they do not match the scale of the devastation suffered by Palestinians in Gaza.
Humanitarian casualties include destroyed hospitals, displaced families, forced starvation, and children trapped under collapsed apartment buildings.
The central question now is whether football can be held as a multi-week celebration of sporting talent in 16 host cities across the United States, Canada and Mexico in June and July, even as the United States continues to commit mass civilian destruction abroad.
African political memory understands these risks. The continent has seen how stadiums and international tournaments project political recognition and how withdrawals destroy that image.
A coordinated boycott would require a joint decision by the governments representing the qualifying countries Morocco, Senegal, Algeria, Tunisia, Egypt, Ivory Coast, Ghana, Cape Verde and South Africa, with support from the African Union, regional bodies and the Confederation of African Football.
Results will appear quickly.
The tournament will lose its claim to global inclusivity, and corporate sponsors will be forced to confront questions they have long avoided.
Most importantly, the international focus will change.
A boycott will not end the conflict overnight. They accomplish something different. It removes the comfort of pretending that injustice doesn’t exist. The withdrawal of the Olympics in 1976 did not immediately dismantle apartheid, but it accelerated isolation and expanded the Universal Union against apartheid.
Now, FIFA’s longstanding political contradictions have increased the need for external pressure. At the World Cup draw held in Washington, D.C., on December 5, President Gianni Infantino presented President Trump with the Peace Prize for his efforts to “promote peace and unity around the world.”
The organization cannot portray itself as a neutral entity while extending symbolic legitimacy to leaders who oversee mass civilian deaths.
In that context, non-participation becomes a morally significant position.
It would not immediately end the devastation in Gaza, but it would challenge US support for sustained military attacks and honor children like Hastings and Sidra.
Despite being separated by decades and continents, their lives reveal common historical patterns. When imperialism decides that black and brown lives have no value at all, children suffer first.
The 1976 African position reshaped international resistance to apartheid. A similar decision in 2026 could strengthen opposition to the modern ruling regime and show families in Gaza that their suffering is recognized across the continent.
History will remember those who rejected injustice and chose comfort while their children perished in relentless bombing and occupation.
If African teams play in the 2026 World Cup in Gaza City, Rafah, Khan Younis, Jenin and Hebron as if nothing happened, their involvement risks legitimizing colonial power structures.
European critics have called on authorities to exclude the United States, but our country’s history calls for a complete withdrawal.
Football cannot be played on the graves of Palestinian martyrs.
Africa must boycott the 2026 World Cup.
The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect the editorial stance of Al Jazeera.
