Mexico City's streets are about to become a theatre of the uncanny. As the nation prepares to co-host the 2026 World Cup, security forces have unveiled a new generation of guardians: robotic dogs from Boston Dynamics-esque startups and autonomous helicopters from British engineering firms. The machines are set to patrol stadiums, fan zones, and transport hubs, scanning crowds for weapons, suspicious behaviour, and even heat signatures of individuals attempting to breach restricted areas.
But what does this mean for the average fan? The robo-dogs, developed by a collaboration between British AI labs and Mexican defence contractors, are designed to navigate tight spaces and uneven terrain. They can climb stairs, open doors, and relay real-time data to command centres staffed with British-trained analysts. The helicopters, meanwhile, hover silently at 500ft, tracking movements with computer vision that promises to spot a knife being drawn in a crowd of 80,000.
It sounds like a utopian vision of safety. Yet as the tech lead who once debugged a facial recognition system that mistook a panda for a terrorist, I worry. The machines are only as good as the data they ingest, and that data is trained on limited surveillance footage from the UK and US. Will a robot dog know the difference between a festival-goer waving a flag and a threat? The helicopters' algorithms struggle with poor lighting and rain. Mexico's summer is wet.
Then there is the question of digital sovereignty. The British firms retain control of the backend code. If a software glitch freezes a robo-dog mid-stride in front of a goal, who pulls the plug? Mexican authorities have signed agreements that allow London-based engineers to tweak settings remotely. That is a spy's dream and a citizen's nightmare.
But let us not be alarmist. The technology has been tested in smaller events: the Commonwealth Games, the Tokyo Olympics. It did not fail catastrophically. The robo-dogs were even used to deliver water bottles to exhausted stewards. There is a humanising potential here. Yet the 'Black Mirror' scenario persists. What happens when a child approaches a robot and the algorithm misreads the encounter? The machines have no empathy. They are tools, not judges.
The fan experience will undoubtedly evolve. Expect to be scanned by a drone's thermal camera before you reach the turnstile. Your face may be logged in a temporary database that expires 24 hours after the final whistle. That is the promise. The fear is that the database does not expire, or that it is shared with immigration authorities. Mexico's privacy laws are not as robust as Europe's GDPR.
Nevertheless, I believe we can embrace this future responsibly. The robots could be programmed with kill switches. The British firms could open-source the ethics protocols. Mexico could insist on local oversight committees with veto power. It is not about rejecting technology; it is about designing it for the user experience of society, not just the police.
As the first fans file into the Azteca Stadium, they may see a metallic quadruped patrolling the stands. They will feel safe. That is the goal. But I hope they also pause and consider the digital bootprints they are leaving behind. The real match is not Brazil vs Germany. It is humanity vs its own creations.
The World Cup will be a test bed for a future where every public event is watched by machines. Let us hope the human referees are not entirely replaced.
