The events leading up to the Qatar World Cup showed the dark side of a beautiful game, but they also provide a window into the forces that shape health.
In recent weeks, I have been glued to my phone watching the World Cup, sometimes I must admit surreptitiously during Zoom meetings. In this, I have been far from alone. The World Cup is, in terms of audience, by a fair measure the world’s largest global sporting event. In 2018, over half the world’s population watched the competition. The World Cup is always exciting, both for the competition itself and for the human stories of its participants. The contenders include preening superstars (Ronaldo…) and young upstarts, national clubs that are well-oiled winning machines and scrappy underdogs looking to earn an upset for the ages. It will be a while before we forget Morocco shocking Spain this week, with the former world champions heading home while Morocco moves forward.
But the World Cup has other stories as well. The narrative leading up to this year’s competition includes much that is unprecedented. It is being held in winter in Qatar—the first time the World Cup has been in the Middle East—as to hold it in its traditional time of summer would be too hot for the players. Then there are the horrific stories about the lives of migrant workers lost due to the conditions many of them experienced in building the stadiums where the games are happening. During the lead-up to the World Cup, reports of this abuse as well as bribery and corruption of officials involved in bringing the games to Qatar, and the broader issue of human rights violations within the country, have complicated the joy soccer fans take in the World Cup. It has, rightly, prompted the question: should we really be holding games in a place where human rights are not respected?
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