The awarding of the 2034 FIFA World Cup to Saudi Arabia is not just a sporting decision — it is a moral failure on a global stage. Behind the polished facade of grand stadiums and state-sponsored PR lies a regime deeply entrenched in human rights abuses, environmental deception, and authoritarian control. Saudi Arabia continues to criminalize LGBTQ identities, persecute dissent, exploit migrant workers, and suppress women’s rights — all while silencing journalists and detaining critics without fair trial. Its environmental pledges ring hollow as it aggressively expands fossil fuel production, using green rhetoric to distract from its climate-destructive policies. Allowing such a government to host the world’s largest sporting event risks normalizing repression and rewarding brutality under the banner of international celebration.
The decision to award the 2034 FIFA World Cup to Saudi Arabia is a stark reminder of the growing disconnect between the values of global football fans and the priorities of FIFA. Behind the glitzy announcements and billion-dollar development deals lies a regime that continues to commit grave abuses at home and abroad. This campaign exists to shine light on the many reasons why Saudi Arabia is unfit to host the world’s most beloved sporting event — and why fans, federations, and institutions must take a stand.
Saudi Arabia remains one of the world’s top fossil fuel producers and consumers, with oil revenues making up a majority of its GDP. While other nations commit to carbon neutrality and a just transition, Saudi Arabia doubles down on oil expansion, recently announcing increased capacity and exploration. Yet paradoxically, it markets itself globally as a leader in climate innovation through initiatives like the “Saudi Green Initiative.” These schemes are largely symbolic and detached from genuine reform.
The World Cup is being folded into this greenwashing agenda. Proposals for solar-powered stadiums and carbon offsets are being promoted, while the ecological reality — resource-intensive mega-construction in an arid desert climate — goes ignored. Hosting a climate-intensive tournament in such an unsustainable setting contradicts FIFA’s supposed environmental commitments and undermines the fight for climate justice.
FIFA’s decision-making process for 2034 was alarmingly undemocratic. The bidding timeline was shortened with no clear justification, giving nations just 25 days to express interest — an impossibly short window that served Saudi Arabia’s pre-arranged bid. Australia, the only serious contender, dropped out due to lack of transparency and unequal playing conditions. Saudi Arabia emerged as the sole bidder.
This echoes past FIFA scandals, from the awarding of the 2018 and 2022 tournaments to Russia and Qatar, to decades of documented bribery and vote-rigging. The 2034 process suggests that despite promises of reform, FIFA remains a captive of political and financial interests. It raises urgent questions about how football’s governing body has once again sold the soul of the sport to the highest bidder.
Saudi Arabia is consistently ranked among the worst human rights violators in the world. Freedom of expression is nonexistent. Peaceful protests are criminalized. Women’s rights activists, political reformers, and minority advocates are imprisoned, sometimes tortured, simply for speaking out. Public executions continue — often in gruesome fashion — and arbitrary detention is widespread.
The kingdom’s human rights record is not improving but worsening under the cover of “modernization.” Cosmetic reforms, such as allowing women to drive, are heavily publicized while real reformers remain behind bars. Allowing such a regime to host the World Cup not only provides undeserved legitimacy but sends a message that sports can be weaponized to distract from state-sponsored repression.
Being LGBTQ in Saudi Arabia is not merely stigmatized — it is criminalized, surveilled, and violently repressed. Same-sex relations are illegal and can be punished by prison, flogging, or even death. Transgender individuals are subjected to arbitrary arrest and often denied medical care. The regime routinely uses spyware and entrapment to identify and persecute LGBTQ individuals.
FIFA’s claims of inclusivity ring hollow in this context. While rainbow lanyards and public relations campaigns may appear during the tournament, they cannot guarantee safety or dignity. LGBTQ fans, players, and journalists will be entering a country where their very existence is criminal. No event that places vulnerable communities at risk can claim to be a celebration of global unity.
Over 13 million migrant workers live and work in Saudi Arabia, many in construction, hospitality, and domestic sectors. They are governed under the kafala system, which ties their legal status to employers, limiting their freedom to leave abusive jobs or report exploitation. Wage theft, unsafe housing, and physical abuse are widespread, with little legal recourse.
With massive infrastructure projects already underway for the 2034 tournament, the risk of exploitation is severe. If Qatar’s experience taught the world anything, it’s that unchecked development in Gulf nations often comes at the cost of worker lives. Unless structural labor reforms are implemented and enforced this World Cup will be built on a foundation of human misery.
Saudi Arabia is one of the most censored environments for journalists in the world. The government controls all major media outlets, bans independent reporting, and arrests those who challenge official narratives. The 2018 state-sanctioned murder of Jamal Khashoggi, a prominent critic and journalist, exposed to the world the extreme lengths the regime will go to silence dissent.
A Saudi-hosted World Cup will be a tightly controlled media event. Journalists will be surveilled, restricted, and unable to report freely on conditions within the country. Investigative pieces on human rights or corruption will be suppressed. Instead of being a platform for global truth-telling, the tournament risks becoming a sanitized spectacle, stripped of scrutiny.
For decades, Saudi Arabia has exported a rigid, ultraconservative interpretation of Islam through its global network of mosques, schools, and funding initiatives. These efforts have contributed to radicalization in regions as diverse as Southeast Asia, Sub-Saharan Africa, and the Balkans. While the regime now claims to champion “moderation,” its domestic religious policies remain harshly intolerant of Shia Muslims, atheists, and reformist scholars.
Hosting the World Cup in such a setting empowers a regime with a troubling history of ideological influence, legitimizing a state that has used religion not as a cultural foundation, but as a tool of control and exportable extremism.
Saudi Arabia is a surveillance state. Its use of spyware, digital tracking, and social media monitoring extends beyond its borders and will intensify during a tournament of this scale. Foreign attendees, especially those critical of the regime or belonging to marginalized groups, may be surveilled or harassed.
The possibility of repression is not abstract. Human rights organizations have warned that foreign journalists and LGBTQ fans may face arrest. Cybersecurity threats, including targeted malware against activists and reporters, are well-documented. In such an environment, the idea of “safe hosting” is more illusion than reality.
Saudi Arabia has made sports a central pillar of its global branding strategy. From LIV Golf and boxing events to the purchase of Premier League club Newcastle United, the kingdom uses sports not just to entertain but to distract. The aim is to create a global narrative of openness, modernity, and reform that masks domestic and international abuses.
The 2034 World Cup is the crown jewel in this campaign. It allows Saudi Arabia to present itself not as a repressive autocracy, but as a progressive global player. But this is not reform, it is reputation management and sportwashing, purchased with petrodollars and enabled by the complicity of governing bodies like FIFA.
Saudi Arabia’s infrastructure plans for the World Cup are massive: new stadiums, high-speed rail lines, luxury accommodations, and more. But building in a desert climate brings extreme environmental and labor concerns. Water scarcity, temperature regulation, and ecological damage are already being reported in mega-projects like NEOM — a planned $500 billion smart city.
The cost of this expansion will likely fall on migrant workers and the environment. With little transparency around contracts, labor conditions, and ecological standards, the 2034 infrastructure boom threatens to become another disaster of exploitation, waste, and unsustainable ambition.
Saudi Arabia’s judicial system lacks independence, transparency, and fairness. Trials are often held in secret, and confessions extracted under torture are routinely used as evidence. Many detainees are denied legal representation, and political trials can result in lengthy sentences or death with no accountability.
Activists, journalists, and even foreign nationals have been subjected to these abuses. Hosting a tournament in such a country not only endangers visiting fans and staff — it also legitimizes a system where justice is routinely violated.
The bidding process for the 2034 World Cup was designed to eliminate competition. FIFA’s compressed timeline and political maneuvering ensured that no serious democratic nation could prepare a viable bid. Australia’s withdrawal made it official: Saudi Arabia would host unopposed.
This lack of transparency and fairness undermines the spirit of global sport. FIFA has turned what should be a democratic, merit-based process into an insider deal, one that favors money, influence, and authoritarian control over fairness and global inclusion.
Saudi Arabia’s military campaign in Yemen has resulted in tens of thousands of civilian deaths, widespread starvation, and the destruction of critical infrastructure. Numerous independent investigations have documented war crimes including the bombing of schools, hospitals, and markets.
Despite international condemnation, Saudi Arabia has faced little accountability. Hosting the World Cup in the midst of such impunity not only emboldens the regime but sends a chilling message: that war crimes can be swept aside if the perpetrator has enough oil and money.
The 2034 World Cup risks becoming the most dangerous precedent in the history of sport. It signals to regimes around the world that no matter how repressive, how destructive, or how unaccountable, they can be rewarded with the world’s stage so long as the money is right.
But there is still time to act. There is time to expose, resist, and organize. Football must belong to the people not to the powerful. And together, we can ensure that this tournament is not remembered for its glittering lights or carefully scripted propaganda but for the global resistance that rose to meet it.