Racism: The ugliest shadow of the beautiful game rears its head again

They call it “the beautiful game” for a reason. Football, which originated in England, with eleven men (or women) a side kicking a ball until it goes into the opponent’s net for a goal, has become a world-wide phenomenon, played in almost every nook and corner of the globe. Some say the Brazilians turned it into an art form, playing with flair and creativity in contrast to the more cerebral, more technical style of the Europeans. The World Cup, the biggest sporting jamboree in the world, now features teams from all the continents, each vying to be crowned champions.

Since its inception in 1930, no nation outside Europe and South America has ever won the FIFA World Cup. European countries have won it a dozen times while South American countries have won it ten times, with Brazil being the most successful in history with five trophies. The best performing African country so far has been Morocco which got to the semifinals in 2022 in Qatar and was a quarterfinalist in the current edition. And as this year’s tournament has shown, more African countries - Egypt, Senegal, Ghana, Ivory Coast, Cape Verde, etc. - are on the brink of breaking into the top tiers of international football.

At its best, football is indeed a beautiful game to watch. It is also a sport that unites the whole planet as evidenced by the camaraderie shown by fans and players alike throughout the ongoing competition which ends on Sunday, July 19th in New York.

We saw Norway’s iconic forward Haarland hugging  his English counterpart, Harry Kane after a quarter final loss. We saw Spanish midfielder Cucurella patting France’s talismanic captain Kylian Mbappe on the back after a hard tackle.  Football is a game, a beautiful game, not war, I reminded someone who felt that the players were “too friendly” towards each other in the France vs Spain semifinal.

Indeed, as the 2026 FIFA World Cup winds down, the pitch has delivered its usual masterclass in drama, triumph, and athletic brilliance. Yet, parallel to the phenomenal goals and tactical chess matches, the tournament has been forced to confront a familiar, corrosive and very ugly rotten side.

Despite decades of "No to Racism" banners, pre-match handshakes, and polished PR campaigns, football is once again grappling with its ugliest shadow.

The latest and most high-profile eruption involves France’s superstar captain, Kylian Mbappé, pushing the conversation beyond the typical terrains of European clubs and straight into the halls of state power. The controversy serves as a stark reminder that in the modern era, the battle against bigotry is no longer just about policing the stands; it is about confronting systemic dehumanization that spans from digital networks to the upper echelons of political power.

The Paraguayan Senator vs Mbappé:

The uproar was ignited following France’s hard-fought 1-0 victory over Paraguay in the Round of 16, a match decided by a clinical Mbappé penalty. Rather than celebrating a tight sporting contest, the post-match narrative was hijacked by a barrage of vitriol from an unexpected source: Paraguayan Senator Celeste Amarilla.  

There was nothing “celestial” In a series of deleted social media posts in which  Amarilla launched a deeply personal, racially charged diatribe against the French captain. She mocked his Cameroonian heritage, calling him a "colonized Cameroonian, trying so hard to pretend to be French," while adding dehumanizing remarks that invoked tropes of the jungle. The United Nations Human Rights Office swiftly condemned her racist rants as "despicable" and "dehumanizing."  

Mbappé, who has never shied away from using his immense global platform to confront injustice, issued a direct and scathing response. He branded Amarilla a "despicable woman" who was "unworthy" of holding public office.

"Through your recklessness and your brazen racism, the entire world has already forgotten the journey and the historic effort that your players accomplished during this World Cup," Mbappé wrote, in issuing Amarilla a yellow card that matches her name.

The incident is not an isolated anomaly at this tournament. From Argentine supporters allegedly targeting Black streamers with zoological insults, to Egyptian players facing targeted abuse during matches, the 2026 World Cup has put the global scale of soccer's racial divide on full display.

An Ugly History of Dehumanization: Bananas and Monkey Chants

To understand why the language used against Mbappé hurts so deeply, one must look at the historical framework of racism in European football. For decades, Black players in Europe’s elite leagues have had to endure a highly specific, grotesque form of abuse designed to reduce them to sub-human status.

The most infamous manifestation of this has been the throwing of bananas onto the pitch. Originating in the late 1970s and peaking through the 1980s and 1990s in stadiums across England, Italy, Spain, and Eastern Europe, this practice was a visual and physical weapon. Pioneering Black players like John Barnes in England faced a barrage of fruit and spit while representing both club and country.

Even in the 21st century, the trend persisted. In 2014, while playing for Barcelona, Brazilian defender Dani Alves famously defused a racist insult by picking up a banana thrown at him by a Villarreal fan, peeling it, and taking a bite before continuing with a corner kick. While Alves' humor won him global praise, the underlying reality was grim: the sport was still treating its Black stars such as Bukayo Saka, Vinicius Jr. and many others as spectacles rather than human beings.

Combined with "monkey chants"—mimicked vocalizations meant to mock Black players whenever they touched the ball—European football stadiums historically functioned as arenas where colonial hierarchies were loudly and safely re-enacted.

FIFA’s Response:  Defense Alone Is Not Enough

In response to growing player militancy and global outrage, FIFA and regional governing bodies have slowly developed their defensive strategies. The current tournament has seen the integration of new protocols designed to give players more agency on the pitch.

Most notably, FIFA has promoted a unified three-step protocol for handling in-stadium abuse, alongside an official "X" arm gesture. By crossing their forearms at the wrists, players or coaches can signal directly to the referee that they are being subjected to discriminatory abuse.

During the intense Egypt vs. Argentina group stage match, Egyptian coach Hossam Hassan famously utilized the crossed-arms gesture to protest abusive chants directed at his squad.

Furthermore, the French Football Federation (FFF) has escalated the Mbappé incident by pursuing formal legal complaints, prompting French prosecutors to open an official criminal investigation. It is a sign that football federations are no longer treating racism as an internal "sporting infraction," but rather as a global crime.

Half-Measures:

Despite the implementation of arm gestures, sensitivity training, and stadium bans, a fundamental question remains: Is football doing enough? The consensus among many players, activists, and sociologists is a resounding NO. The current anti-racism framework largely relies on reactive measures and financial penalties that fail to act as genuine deterrents.

These include:

Fines as a Cost of Business: For wealthy European clubs or well-funded national federations, a £50,000 or £100,000 fine for fan behavior is a drop in the ocean. It is treated as an operational expense rather than a moral reckoning.

The Digital Wild Wild West: While physical stadiums have more cameras and security, online abuse remains virtually unchecked. Players like Mbappé, Bukayo Saka, and Marcus Rashford are routinely subjected to thousands of monkey emojis and racial slurs on social media after a missed penalty or a loss, with tech platforms offering little more than automated bans.

A Lack of Point Deductions: Governing bodies remain incredibly hesitant to apply the ultimate sporting sanction: stripping teams of points or expelling them from tournaments due to fan or official behavior.

Until FIFA and domestic leagues show a willingness to declare a match forfeited and deduct critical league points from clubs whose supporters or officials engage in racism, the structures of power will remain unchallenged. Players should not be forced to act as their own shields, using social media to fight off sitting senators while trying to win a World Cup.

Conclusion

Football has always been a mirror of the world around it. The racism witnessed at the 2026 World Cup is not born in the stadiums; it is imported from societies that have yet to fully deconstruct their colonial pasts and systemic prejudices.

When superstars like Kylian Mbappé stand up and fight back, they do so not just for their own dignity, but for millions of young Black and brown players globally who love the game but are forced to navigate its hostility.

FIFA’s protocols are a necessary administrative step, but the true eradication of racism in football requires an uncompromising cultural shift—one where the institutions of the sport value human dignity far more than broadcasting rights, sponsorship deals, and the preservation of the schedule.

To stamp out racism in football (and in all the other sports) Black players, joined by their white and brown colleagues, should refuse to continue to play wherever they are subjected to racial slurs. They should walk off the pitch while hefty fines and points deduction are slapped on the offending club, stadium or country. That should be the red card for racism in football.

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