It was to be a global fiesta, a quadrennial celebration of the world’s game. Instead, the 2026 World Cup has become a farcical showcase of American exceptionalism at its most insufferable. As fans rage against travel bans and visa restrictions, we witness not merely administrative incompetence but the logical endpoint of a nation that has forgotten it is part of a world, not its sovereign. The chants from furious supporters: “A World Cup for them, not us.” They are, of course, entirely correct.
Let us examine the grotesque irony. The United States, a nation built on immigration, a nation whose very identity is a melting pot, now treats foreign visitors like potential invaders. The visa process is a Kafkaesque ordeal: labyrinthine paperwork, arbitrary denials, and an unspoken assumption that every football fan from Buenos Aires to Berlin is a criminal in waiting. The result? Thousands of ticketholders locked out, their dreams of witnessing Messi or Mbappé dashed by a bureaucrat’s stamp. The World Cup, historically a festival of unity, becomes a parable of exclusion.
One is reminded of the later Roman Empire, where citizenship became a jealously guarded privilege, and non-citizens were treated with suspicion. The Romans built walls and regulated movement; eventually the empire crumbled under the weight of its own paranoid insularity. The United States, with its fortress mentality, is repeating this tragic cycle. The irony is that the very terror that inspired these restrictions is statistically negligible. You are more likely to be killed by a vending machine than by a terrorist at a World Cup.
But the deeper malaise is intellectual. The American elite has succumbed to a decadent fear of the other. Gone is the confidence of the Cold War era, when America opened its doors to show the world its vitality. Now, we import hysteria from Fox News and export suspicion. The World Cup, meant to showcase American hospitality, instead reveals a nation that has lost its nerve. We build stadiums but not bridges. We sell tickets but not welcome. The 1994 World Cup, with its blithe optimism, seems a memory from a different civilisation.
Consider the historical parallel with the late Victorian era. The British Empire, at its zenith, was shockingly open: anyone with a passport could travel freely across the globe. But as the empire decayed, it introduced the Aliens Act, passport controls, and a creeping xenophobia. Sound familiar? The US is now the ageing empire, clinging to its privileges while erecting barriers. The World Cup boycott whispers of a broader decline: an America that would rather keep out the world than engage with it.
The fans are right to be angry. They are not being treated as guests but as threats. The visa denials are not mere paperwork failures; they are a moral failure. A nation that cannot host a football tournament without humiliating its guests is a nation unworthy of its own myth. This is not the land of the free. It is the land of the fearful.
Let the chants grow louder. Let the world see the real face of the American empire. It is a face that turns away, a face that says: we will take your money but not your people. And as the stadiums fill with corporate sponsors and local fans, the empty seats will be monuments to a lost opportunity. A World Cup for them, not us. Maybe that is for the best. The world deserves better hosts.
