REPORT: The 2026 World Cup Beset by Visa Issues — How Trump Is Sabotaging His Own Sporting Triumph

Eleven Hours in Custody for a Valid Visa

Omar Artan’s story is the one that has moved the global soccer community the most. A FIFA referee since 2018, the first Somali to officiate a continental final in 2025, and named African Referee of the Year by the Confederation of African Football, Artan had been selected by FIFA to officiate at the 2026 World Cup. It was the crowning achievement of an exceptional career. He arrived at Miami International Airport on a Monday, carrying a valid U.S. visa and official FIFA accreditation—both documents intended to guarantee his entry into the country.

What happened next bordered on Kafkaesque absurdity. U.S. customs agents detained him for eleven hours, questioning him about possible ties to the jihadist group Al-Shabaab. He denied any connection. His diplomatic passport and visa were deemed insufficient. The White House, through a spokesperson, stated that Artan was “in contact with very bad people”—without ever specifying who they were or producing any evidence. He was sent back to Istanbul, then to Mogadishu. FIFA offered to pay him his full tournament fees and invited him to referee the UEFA Super Cup between PSG and Aston Villa in August 2026.

His response: a lesson in dignity

Artan refused the financial compensation. “I don’t want any compensation. I wanted to referee at the World Cup,” he said in a statement that circulated around the world. “I had the right paperwork and everything I needed. I’m just a referee trying to live my dream.” He announced his intention to qualify for the 2030 World Cup. His exclusion was not without diplomatic consequences: Somalia is among the countries whose nationals are barred from entering the United States under the Trump executive order, regardless of the nature of the trip or the status of the individual concerned. A FIFA-appointed referee, holding international accreditation, was therefore sent home because of his nationality—not because of any action he took.

Artan’s response struck me with its restraint. No anger, no political tirade. Just the raw pain of a man who had been robbed of the greatest moment of his career. What the U.S. authorities did that day in Miami didn’t protect anyone. It simply broke a man.

A $15,000 Hug

Cape Verdean goalkeeper Vozinha, 40, is one of the breakout stars of this World Cup. During Cape Verde’s match against Spain, he delivered an extraordinary performance that earned him the title of Man of the Match and millions of new followers on social media. But after the game, cameras caught him in tears. He explained: “I cried because I grew up with my grandparents, who, unfortunately, are no longer with us. They passed away a few years ago. My mother, for her part, couldn’t be there because of visa issues and the fees we would have had to pay. We weren’t able to get it done in time.”

The reason is simple and harsh: in January 2026, the U.S. government added Cape Verde to the list of countries whose citizens must post a refundable bond of up to $15,000 to obtain a tourist visa, in addition to the usual consular fees. Vozinha’s mother, Ana Candida Evora, 59, watched her son make Cape Verdean soccer history from her home in São Vicente, one of Cape Verde’s ten main islands. The Trump administration had indeed lifted this deposit requirement for ticket holders in May 2026—but it was too late for families who had given up without having been able to purchase tickets beforehand.

Political Intervention and Resolution

The media coverage of this story was so widespread that Hakeem Jeffries, the Democratic leader in the House of Representatives, spoke out publicly to ask Secretary of State Marco Rubio to do everything possible to ensure that Ana Candida Evora could attend her son’s second match against Uruguay in Miami the following Sunday. “ No mother should miss the chance to see her child make history,” Jeffries said. Ultimately, the visa fees were waived, Evora’s Cape Verdean passport was expedited, and mother and son were able to reunite in Miami. But how many other families—less in the spotlight, less fortunate—spent those weeks watching their loved ones play on a television screen thousands of kilometers away?

This happy ending was only possible because a soccer celebrity went viral. Behind Vozinha are thousands of anonymous families for whom no one called Marco Rubio. Systemic injustice only becomes media injustice when someone cries in front of a camera.

The Tijuana Base Camp and Stay Restrictions

Iran is the most extreme case at this World Cup. The Iranian national team was forced to set up its base camp in Tijuana, Mexico—after initially planning to train in Arizona—due to immigration restrictions that prohibit any extended stay on U.S. soil. The Department of Homeland Security (DHS) has set strict rules: the team is allowed to enter the United States one day before each match and must leave the same evening as the game. For their first match against New Zealand in Los Angeles, some members of the Iranian delegation watched the game from Mexico, as their visas had not been granted in time.

The Iranian Football Federation (FFIRI) requested to arrive in each host city two days before the match to allow the team to acclimate and complete its final preparations. This request was denied twice—for the match against New Zealand and for the match against Belgium in Los Angeles. Andrew Giuliani, director of the White House task force for the tournament, defended the agreement, stating that it was “quite extraordinary” that all thirty-one players and coaches had received visas. He acknowledged that some federation officials had not been granted visas—because, according to him, there was “adverse information” about them.

15 Federation Officials Denied Visas; Official Complaint Filed with FIFA

According to reports in the U.S. media, 15 members of the Islamic Football Federation of Iran were denied U.S. visas prior to the start of the tournament. The State Department justified these denials on the grounds of security concerns and suspicions that the tournament would be used to “smuggle terrorists into the United States under false pretenses.” Iran has filed an official complaint with FIFA, demanding that the organization “adhere to the principles of fairness and established standards.” Iranian head coach Amir Ghalenoei summed up his delegation’s bitterness after the match against New Zealand: “Our team is perhaps the most oppressed in this entire World Cup.”

One can have all the reservations in the world about the Iranian regime—and I do. But a soccer team, made up of professional players who often live abroad, deserves to be treated with dignity. Treating them as suspects by default means penalizing athletes for the policies of their government. This is a confusion that the West cannot afford to perpetuate.

A stadium filled with diaspora fans instead of real supporters

On June 16, 2026, MetLife Stadium in East Rutherford, New Jersey, hosted Senegal’s opening match against France. The Lions of Teranga lost 3-1, but the absence of their own fans from Senegal in the stands was just as striking as the score. Senegal is among the countries whose citizens face partial restrictions on U.S. visas. Head coach Pape Thiaw hoped that members of the Senegalese diaspora in the United States would understand the absence of fans traveling directly from Senegal. They did indeed turn out in force—but that doesn’t change the underlying reality: hundreds of thousands of Senegalese who dreamed of attending these matches were structurally prevented from doing so.

Mahmoud Toure, a Senegalese national who has lived in the United States for 25 years, described the situation with striking clarity: “A friend of mine in Senegal had won a ticket through the FIFA lottery. He couldn’t come because he didn’t get a visa. That’s how serious the situation is.” ” The captain of the Senegalese team publicly questioned why his team had to play without the support of its own fans due to a system of immigration exclusion. This isn’t a matter of security. It’s a matter of consistency: how can you organize the world’s largest soccer tournament while excluding the fans of the teams participating in it?

Journalists, Too: Press Freedom Under Strain

It’s not just the fans who have been affected. The International Sports Press Association (AIPS) has sounded the alarm that some foreign journalists have been unable to cover the tournament, or have been issued single-entry visas—which prevent them from following their national teams across the three host countries. An Iraqi journalist was turned away in Chicago even before the tournament began. Freedom of information—a fundamental pillar of the Western model—is thus compromised within the confines of an event that the United States proudly hosts as a showcase of its cultural and athletic power.

When journalists are prevented from covering a World Cup, national security is not being protected. Instead, the diversity of voices documenting the event is being diminished. The West has built its influence on freedom of information. When the United States undermines it in its own tournament, it is a symbolic capitulation that our adversaries will be sure to revel in.

Norway and Scotland have unrestricted access, while Ghana and Morocco are barred

The divide is stark in its simplicity. Citizens of 42 countries—primarily in Europe, Northeast Asia, and developed Oceania—benefit from the Visa Waiver Program (VWP) through the ESTA system: no consular appointment, no high fees, no interview with an officer. A Norwegian or a Scot can buy a plane ticket and land in the United States with a simple online authorization. A Moroccan, on the other hand, must make an appointment at an embassy that is sometimes fully booked for months in advance, pay consular fees, prove that they have sufficient ties to their home country, and undergo an interview—all while knowing that their national denial rate hovers around 40% or higher.

The Moroccan fan group “Les Sbouaa” illustrates this reality strikingly: 40 of their 42 members were denied visas, without explanation. These fans had histories of international travel, stable employment, and complete applications. They are among the most passionate fans in the world, traveling across Africa and Europe to support the national team. The United States decided that they posed a risk. No evidence, no individual cases reviewed. Just a statistical rejection rate mechanically applied to a group application.

Bulgaria at 80% Rejection Rate: Total Inconsistency

To illustrate just how far this inconsistency can go, let’s take the case of Bulgaria. This European Union country—and thus an Atlanticist partner and NATO member—has, according to some sources, a U.S. visa denial rate of around 80%. Bulgarian fans who wanted to attend the World Cup in the United States were denied en masse. These were not citizens of hostile regimes, nor were they security risks: they were Europeans, members of an alliance led by the United States. Security considerations, in this case, seem to have given way to an administrative process lacking any meaningful regulation or exception.

When a European NATO ally sees 80% of its citizens denied U.S. tourist visas during a World Cup hosted by the United States, this is no longer a matter of immigration policy. It is blind bureaucracy. And the difference between a democracy and an authoritarian regime is precisely that the former acknowledges its mistakes and corrects them.

“We’re not the kings of the world”

FIFA finds itself in a deeply uncomfortable position. It awarded the hosting rights for this World Cup to the United States, Canada, and Mexico, raking in record revenues in the process. It marketed the event as the most open, the most inclusive, and the largest in history. And now, its president, Gianni Infantino, finds himself forced to justify the unjustifiable. His response, given to reporters in Miami, sums up the impasse: “We are not the rulers of the world capable of governing governments and police forces. We are a sports organization. We are doing our best with the resources at our disposal.”

This is technically true. FIFA does not issue U.S. visas. It does not have the power to change the immigration policies of a sovereign state. It has implemented the FIFA PASS system, which is supposed to expedite consular appointments for ticket holders. But this system has its own limitations: it applies only to people who have already purchased tickets, creating a vicious cycle—to get a fast-track appointment, you must have bought a ticket; but why buy a ticket if you don’t know whether you’ll get a visa? And most importantly, FIFA PASS does not change the eligibility criteria or lift the restrictions for nationals of the 39 banned countries.

More than 200 civil society organizations on high alert

In response to FIFA’s inaction and the Trump administration’s policies, more than 200 civil rights organizations have signed a joint warning addressed to international fans, alerting them to the risks associated with U.S. immigration policies. These groups have organized protests in several host cities and demanded the creation of safe zones protected from ICE raids around stadiums and official tournament events. The White House, through Andrew Giuliani, refused to guarantee that there would be no immigration agency operations during the tournament, stating that the president had “not ruled out any measures that might protect American citizens.”

FIFA has the right not to be held responsible for U.S. immigration policies. But it bears moral responsibility for having accepted these organizational conditions without demanding minimum guarantees of free access for fans. To preach inclusivity in words while delivering exclusion in practice is not a communication error. It is a betrayal.

Four qualified teams, four flags banned from the stands

The 2026 World Cup has laid bare a reality that diplomacy usually prefers to conceal: the United States does not maintain normal relations with a significant portion of the world that has qualified for this tournament. Haiti and Iran are under a total ban. The situation with Iran—a team forced to stay in Mexico, cross the border on a charter flight the day before each match, and return the same evening—is not only absurd from a sporting standpoint but also diplomatically revealing of a state of latent hostility. Iran is participating in an event where the United States is the primary host, under conditions that would not be imposed on an ordinary traveler.

Even Palestine is affected: the head of the Palestinian Football Authority was denied a visa, according to reports during the tournament. An accredited Iraqi photographer was turned away in Chicago before the matches had even begun. The list grows longer by the week, fueled by individual denial decisions that no one is able to effectively challenge within the time constraints of the tournament. And meanwhile, global sports governing bodies stand by and watch.

The West’s image tarnished in front of two billion television viewers

This World Cup is being broadcast worldwide, in countries whose citizens were unable to obtain visas to attend. Every visa denial, every humiliation at the border, every mother stranded on an island in Cape Verde becomes viral content on social media, commented on and amplified by Russian, Chinese, and Iranian state media, which are only too happy to highlight the hypocrisy of a West that proclaims itself open and universal. China, Russia, and Iran—the West’s strategic adversaries—do not need to invent anti-American arguments. The reality of denied visas provides them in real time.

The West wins the narrative wars when it truly embodies its values. When the United States hosts the World Cup while shutting the door on a quarter of the planet, it offers its adversaries their best free propaganda. This is counterproductive on a strategic level that even the most die-hard supporters of the Trump line should recognize.

DHS and the State Department Defend Their Record

In the face of criticism, U.S. authorities have maintained a firm stance. Lauren Bis, acting deputy director of the Department of Homeland Security, stated: “International visitors who come to the United States legally for the World Cup have nothing to fear. What makes someone a target for immigration authorities is being in the United States illegally.” ” The State Department, for its part, noted that the FIFA PASS program expedites consular appointments for ticket holders and that family members of players may be eligible for waivers on visa bond requirements. Marco Rubio told Congress that he had “no problem” issuing visas to teams such as Iran—while clarifying that members of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) would be systematically barred.

These arguments have their own logic. The United States does indeed have the sovereign right to control its borders. Security concerns related to events of this magnitude are legitimate. And the U.S. government has made some concessions: waiving visa bond requirements for ticket holders in May 2026, expediting consular appointments, and providing priority processing for players’ families. But these measures came too late, were too limited in scope, and never addressed the underlying problem: the 39 countries subject to immigration restrictions cannot obtain regular tourist visas, FIFA PASS or not.

A State Department spokesperson: disastrous communication

Earlier this year, a State Department spokesperson stated: “The Trump administration is putting an end to the abuse of the U.S. immigration system by those who would seek to exploit the American people.” ” This statement, made in the context of an international sports tournament hosted by the United States, was interpreted as confirmation that immigration policy would make no exceptions for soccer. The message sent to the world was crystal clear: come with your dollars, but not with your flags—unless you’re from the “right” country.

There is a distinction that the Trump administration seems unable or unwilling to make: the distinction between security and systemic discrimination. Controlling borders—yes. Treating ambassadors of international sports as suspects by default because of their nationality—no. The former is a legitimate right. The latter is a political mistake.

When a FIFA Ticket No Longer Guarantees Access to the Stadium

One of the founding principles of the Olympic movement and international soccer is universal access: teams participate in tournaments regardless of political tensions, and fans can follow their teams. The Olympic Charter protects this principle during the Games. FIFA, however, has no equivalent binding mechanism. What this World Cup reveals is the existence of a gaping legal void: a global sports organization can award a tournament to a country without requiring firm contractual guarantees regarding free access for all participants—fans, referees, officials—regardless of their nationality.

From this perspective, the implications of Omar Artan’s situation are particularly grave. A referee officially appointed by FIFA, in possession of all the required credentials, can be turned away at the border by a host country. If this logic is accepted, it means that a host nation can theoretically exclude any official from any nation deemed undesirable. This sets a precedent that the West’s adversaries could exploit should Russia, China, or a Gulf nation ever host a major international sports tournament again. We would then have forfeited any moral authority to protest.

Congo and Uganda: Ebola Crashes the Party

The list of obstacles isn’t limited to the Trump administration’s immigration policies. Congolese fans were unable to travel to Houston to support the Democratic Republic of the Congo during its historic match against Portugal (a spectacular 1-1 draw) due to Ebola-related health restrictions imposed by the U.S. CDC. In this case, the restrictions are health-related rather than immigration-related, and they may be more difficult to challenge diplomatically. But the result is the same: a nation qualifying for the first time is playing its first World Cup match in front of stands devoid of its own fans.

It must be acknowledged: some restrictions have genuine health or security justifications. But the accumulation of these measures—denied visas, exorbitant security deposits, Ebola restrictions, single-entry visas for journalists—ultimately paints a picture of systemic exclusion that far exceeds what legitimate caution can justify.

The Passport as a Criterion for Access to Global Culture

This World Cup reveals, with surgical precision, a reality that many prefer to ignore: the freedom to travel the world depends fundamentally on the passport you hold. A Swedish, German, or Japanese passport is a universal key. An Algerian, Ghanaian, or Jordanian passport is an obstacle to be overcome at every border. This fundamental inequality did not begin with Trump—it existed long before him. But the combination of a tournament hosted in the United States and a particularly restrictive immigration policy has transformed this underlying reality into a public scandal at the forefront of global news.

Yarelis Méndez-Zamora, policy coordinator at the American Friends Service Committee, put her finger on the heart of the matter: “If a FIFA-selected referee with a valid visa can be denied entry upon arrival in Miami, what message does that send to millions of fans, families, and visitors from around the world who were planning to travel to the United States? To host an event of this magnitude, you have to be a welcoming host. ” It’s phrased with disconcerting simplicity. And it’s absolutely spot on.

The Diaspora as an Alternative

In American stadiums, solidarity has found its own solutions. Members of the African, Middle Eastern, and Caribbean diasporas living in the United States have donned the jerseys of their national teams to make up for the absence of official supporters. Senegalese from Brooklyn, Cape Verdeans from New England, and Iranians from Los Angeles have created hotbeds of enthusiasm in stands that would otherwise have been populated solely by neutral spectators. It’s beautiful. But it’s not a solution. The diaspora cannot replace the people.

What I observed in those stadiums was the resilience of exiled communities—people who have rebuilt a national identity from afar in a foreign land. They deserved to have their loved ones join them, to have their families cross the Atlantic just this once. America denied them that. And to me, that is the true defeat of this World Cup—far more so than any score on the field.

The FIFA Pass and the May 2026 Relaxations

It would be inaccurate to claim that the U.S. government made no effort. In May 2026, the Trump administration waived the $15,000 refundable bond requirement for nationals of five countries—including Cape Verde—who held match tickets. The FIFA PASS system was implemented to expedite consular appointments. Exemptions were granted to players’ families. Marco Rubio personally facilitated the processing of Vozinha’s mother’s application following Hakeem Jeffries’ intervention. These actions had a real impact for a limited number of people.

But the underlying problem remained unresolved. The requirement to post a bond in May 2026 meant that tickets had to be purchased before it was even known whether a visa could be obtained. The backlog for processing consular applications was so severe that even expedited appointments through FIFA PASS sometimes fell after the relevant match dates. And nationals of the 39 countries subject to total or partial immigration restrictions remained excluded from the system, regardless of how streamlined the FIFA PASS process was. The underlying policy—the 39 countries, the rejection rates, the heightened controls—has not changed one iota.

The bottom line: half-measures for a whole problem

The Trump administration opted for an approach that could be described as “individual exceptions without structural reform.” When a case garnered enough media attention—Omar Artan, Vozinha, the Senegalese fans—ad hoc solutions were found, sometimes effectively. But the underlying structure remained intact. There were no prior negotiations with FIFA to guarantee minimum access conditions. There was no temporary exemption for the tournament from immigration restriction policies. There were no systemic measures allowing fans from qualifying nations to plan their trips with reasonable certainty of obtaining a visa. What the administration offered was media crisis management, not sports policy worthy of the name.

I understand the political calculus of the Trump administration: concessions on visas do not win it votes in Iowa or Pennsylvania. But the United States agreed to host this event. With that honor comes a host nation’s obligation. Managing media fallout on a case-by-case basis while maintaining the exclusionary structure amounts to reaping the benefits of the tournament without shouldering its responsibilities.

A Clear Signal for Future Hosts

The 2026 World Cup is still underway. There are still matches to be played, memorable moments, and sporting surprises. But the migration-related issues that have emerged during this first phase serve as a warning that the international sports community must not ignore. The upcoming bids for major competitions—the 2030 World Cup and the 2028 Los Angeles Olympics—should include contractual clauses guaranteeing free access for fans, officials, and journalists, regardless of their nationality. Without these guarantees enshrined in the organizing contracts, we will see more Vozinhas, more Omar Artans, and more families stuck in front of a television screen thousands of kilometers away from their dreams.

Trump, the Tournament, and the Price of Western Consistency

It is possible to advocate for secure borders and welcome the world. These two goals are not contradictory—except when immigration policies are enforced with a bureaucratic rigidity that is completely disconnected from the sporting and diplomatic context. The Trump administration secured a few useful concessions and handled certain cases effectively when there was sufficient media pressure. But it has left thousands of fans without answers, humiliated an exemplary referee, and forced a national team to live in a foreign country to participate in a tournament hosted by the United States. The West is defined by its values of openness, fair play, and meritocracy. This World Cup has sent the world the opposite message. It’s not too late to correct the course—but time is running out.

By Maxime Marquette, columnist