On the streets of Cairo these past few weeks, excitement abounded. Huddled around TV screens, Egyptian men—old and young alike—roared and embraced one another when Morocco’s progression to the semi-finals of the World Cup became evident. Seemingly everyone had gathered to cheer on the first Arab country to have progressed so far in the game. In a local café in Cairo, music played, people danced, and some dismounted the Moroccan flag to use as shawls and props for photos. It did not matter that Egypt did not even qualify; a victory for Morocco was a victory for the Arab world.
The mood later soured into a sombre, almost grieving, atmosphere when France eventually beat Morocco in a game with inordinately high stakes. Morocco had thus far been on a warpath, knocking out ex-colonial powers match-by-match. They even began to foster a sense of home advantage as fans from defeated teams defected into the Morocco stands, and more Moroccans flooded Qatar. The team had an underdog charm, their campaign to the semi-finals being described as an “upset” or a “Cinderella run,” suggesting the team had outperformed expectations, albeit with varying connotations.
While fans and commentators in the West bemoaned the Arab influence on this year’s cup, viewers in the Middle East were buoyed by the cultural and physical proximity of the game, something which Europeans and South Americans take for granted. With unexpected wins from Morocco and Saudi Arabia, people in Egypt and Palestine felt as though they were winning too. But at the end of the day, it was Qatar–with all the exposure it received drowning out the many controversies surrounding the tournament–which emerged as the biggest winner of all.
Under pressure: the field on which old rivalries play out, and new names are made
National team footballers carry more than just the weight of their country’s expectations, they also bear the pressure of an opportunity to show-up countries where decades—if not centuries—old entrenched rivalries transcend the field. When England plays Germany, for example, they pull out the chant “Two World Wars and one World Cup.”
When I asked several French nationals of Moroccan descent who they would be rooting for, they noted that while they considered the semi-final matchup slightly awkward, they were rooting for Morocco, without question. It has only been 66 years since Morocco achieved independence from France, so this was a loaded defeat.
The pan-Arab sentiment was fostered further when the Atlas Lions (the affectionate moniker of the Moroccan team) would unfurl a Palestinian flag after every match, with the knowledge that millions of viewers internationally would be tuning in. While Morocco normalised relations with Israel back in 2020, this does not necessarily reflect sentiment on the ground. In Egypt, for example, where relations with Israel have been normalised since 1980, it is still considered taboo to utter the word “Israel” on the streets, at the risk of provoking a confrontation with a particularly aggressive passerby. Qatar has not looked kindly upon political acts by visiting teams and spectators, such as demonstrations of support for the protests currently taking place in Iran. However, the Moroccan team’s political acts were permitted, likely because support for Palestine is not considered controversial in the Arab world.
Arab nationalist feeling finds its place in the sport in other ways as well; the Moroccan team achieved international recognition for their skills in this World Cup. They thus constitute a major source of national pride, as is often the case for star athletes. In Greece, for example, Giannis Antetokounmpo is not only a “Greek Freak” on the basketball court, but also a ubiquitous presence in ads. However, the entire Mediterranean does not collectively bask in the Milwaukee Bucks athlete’s vertiginous rise, whereas support for the Moroccan team is exceptional in that it transcends national boundaries.
To some extent, the significance of Morocco’s wins stems from football’s privileged position in many Middle Eastern countries. For example, players which are signed onto European teams are seen as having made it. This is reflected in the excessive fan behaviour emerging around these figures. In Egypt, it is not uncommon to find young boys in red Liverpool shirts with “M. Salah” emblazoned on the back. His face can also be spotted on buses, pharmacy vitrines, or in government anti-drug ads. He is a national icon, a household name. When Egyptian taxi drivers discover I lived in England, they often ask me if I know Salah (“not personally,” I respond).
Qatar’s World Cup
For many, the World Cup and its apex – the final that many have called “the best game” they’ve ever seen – placed Qatar firmly on the map. And Qatar was not about to let this opportunity go to waste; wherever possible, the World Cup was imbued with an Arab flair. For one, the Al Bayt Stadium had been constructed to resemble a massive Bedouin tent. When Qatar’s emir, Sheikh Tamim bin Hamad al-Thani, interrupted Messi’s celebrations to bestow a bisht upon him, fans and football commentators were aghast, with the BBC’s Gary Lineker commenting that it was a “shame they’ve covered his shirt.” Arab fans however leapt immediately to defend the gesture, describing it as an immense honour with deep-rooted cultural significance.
Disparaging Qatar for “politicising” sports by injecting their culture at every turn would be to ignore that sports has never operated in a vacuum. An obvious example of this would be the Olympic Games, in which the hosts showcase to massive audiences the best their country has to offer by way of colourful dance and music in the opening ceremony. The hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of tourists attracted by the Games explore the local sights and cuisines in their down time.
Holding the rights to host such a major sporting tournament was a boon for the Gulf as a whole, with a lack of accommodation in Qatar resulting in many fans staying in Dubai, attracted by the more lax rules around alcohol sales. FlyDubai–the Dubai based low-cost carrier–operated up to 33 daily round trips to Doha during this period, a leap from the 6 daily flights taking place regularly. Saudi Arabia cashed in on the attention as well, as ticket-holders were eligible for free two-month tourist visas.
Countries host expensive sporting events as an investment, in the hopes that they will yield economic and political benefits through tourism, visibility and exhibitions of soft power. Organising committees take full advantage of this – adding an Arab touch to the World Cup is to fully follow precedent. The issue, perhaps, is that the World Cup had not been politicised enough.
There have been many conversations about sportswashing, or, attempts to use sports to rectify a poor track record in other areas such as that of human rights. However, these can be characterised by a sense of inevitability, indifference, or outrage that eventually fizzles out. An unwillingness to question foreign norms like the Kafala system which underpinned the World Cup controversies is part of the problem, but the rest can be chalked down to the fact that people want to watch good sports, which is why sportswashing is so effective. Few fans were willing to take a stand against the World Cup at any point in the past several years, even as migrant workers consistently made the news.
The absence of sustained commentary on these human rights abuses is evidence that Qatar successfully harnessed sportswashing as a PR technique to soften their national image on the world stage. They armoured themselves against criticism by harnessing the excitement and pride felt by Arab populations at being represented in such a major sporting event through gestures, architecture, symbolism, and the creation of a wider Arab feel to the competition.
The World Cup was also an opportunity to publicly display regional political unity and project strength to the rest of the world. In 2017, Bahrain, Saudi Arabia, the UAE and Egypt imposed an embargo on Qatar, demanding that it cease support for Islamist groups like Egypt’s Muslim Brotherhood. The embargo has since been lifted. Watching the World Cup, and seeing images of the Saudi Crown Prince and Qatari emir hand in hand at the opening ceremony, one could not have guessed there had been any animosity in the recent past.
For Qatar, the World Cup was an expensive undertaking, ultimately yielding high rewards, which trickled down into the Gulf as a whole.
For the Arab world, the World Cup felt close to home. The compelling narratives pitting Messi against Mbappé took place against a Middle Eastern backdrop. As viewers were drawn in by the intrigue, the action, and a sense of pride towards their compatriots, Qatar took the opportunity to polish their public image, or create one in spaces where it may not have previously existed.