On a summer night in 2000, my friend and I bade farewell on a platform in Zurich’s train station. She was taking the night train to Rome; I to Paris. One of us would alight in the country that would have won the UEFA Euro final that was playing out as we stood there.
That July night was the beginning of my love for international soccer. Normally I’d have counted down the days to the start of the World Cup, hang my American and Swiss flags, and then watch and follow obsessively. But not this time around.
My reservations started with the bribery that secured Qatar hosting rights — just one of the many FIFA corruption scandals. Then I learned of the slave labor used to build the stadia needed for the quadrennial tournament.
And when the world is quaking about a climate catastrophe, does it make sense to build energy-sucking infrastructure for a month-long event?
Not to mention the issue of the country itself: Qatar is a critical funder of Hamas, the terror group that runs the Gaza Strip; the same group that has a penchant for firing rockets indiscriminately into Israel, killing Israeli citizens and keeping Israel’s southern residents in a constant state of fear.
I also have a general rule: If a country bars Israelis, even if I’m able to enter as an American, it’s not going to be a travel destination for me.
Ultimately, the decision to boycott the World Cup wasn’t difficult. I don’t want to sound like a moral purist, because geopolitics and cultural differences are complex. Accusations of “sportswashing,” “pinkwashing” or “greenwashing” can be facile, the imposition of Western standards on other societies. If only one of my concerns were present I likely would have caved. But taken together, it made it very easy to sit this one out.
I realize my boycott isn’t costing anyone big bucks. It basically consists of me changing the station whenever sports radio turns to the World Cup, turning a page in the newspaper and blocking lots of hashtags.
Coincidentally, 2000 was also when “Gladiator,” one of my favorite movies, was released. “Are you not entertained?” Maximus bellows in disgust after defeating his opponents in the Colosseum. I’ve always taken this line as a call to reflect on what we as spectators are willing to accept in exchange for being entertained. Qatar was a cost too high for me.
Now the 2024 Euro, despite UEFA being mired in its own corruption scandals? I predict that my moral high horse will become a bit uncomfortable by then.
Shana Goldberg may be reached at [email protected]
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