Last night, Spain defeated Argentina to claim the World Cup title. For most neutral observers, choosing sides in such a match would typically be straightforward—rooting for the aesthetically pleasing style of play or a favorite player’s brilliance.
Yet these are unprecedented times.
The Gaza conflict has reshaped how many people understand global affairs. It acts as a moral lens, influencing our perspectives not just on political leaders and governments, but also institutions, universities, media, corporations, and public figures. We’ve witnessed individuals and organizations we once admired turn away from the devastation of a people. Others have developed complex language of justification when confronted with atrocities that, in different contexts or against different populations, would have drawn immediate condemnation.
And we’ve seen those who refused to look away.
That is why, last night, I rooted for Spain.
Football teams aren’t governments, and Spanish players aren’t accountable for Prime Minister Pedro Sánchez’s domestic policies anymore than Lionel Messi and his Argentine teammates bear responsibility for President Javier Milei’s political stance.
But sport has never existed in a vacuum. We bring our histories, identities, sympathies, and moral judgments into the stadium. Our choices are rarely just about tactics and statistics.
For many conscious observers, Spain now represents something greater.
While much of the Western political establishment has struggled with moral clarity regarding Gaza, Spain has maintained a stance marked by explicit candor. Sánchez’s government recognized the State of Palestine, openly used the term genocide to describe events in Gaza, and strengthened an arms embargo against Israeli actions.
You don’t need to endorse every government policy to appreciate its significance. Moral courage is often measured precisely when taking a stand involves tangible costs.
There was also something profoundly moving about Lamine Yamal, one of football’s brightest emerging talents, waving a Palestinian flag during Barcelona’s league celebration.
This small gesture occurred amid vast Palestinian suffering. Yet symbols carry weight, especially when powerful institutions have worked hard to render Palestine invisible.
There was Yamal, at the pinnacle of sporting achievement, surrounded by joy, holding up the flag of a people whose suffering the world has been urged to forget.
Opposing him stood Argentina—a magnificent football nation led by perhaps the game’s greatest player ever. The Gaza issue also colored the emotional response to this match. Images of Messi at the Western Wall in East Jerusalem, taken during Barcelona’s 2013 visit to occupied Palestinian territory, resurfaced powerfully.
The contrast between Messi’s 2013 visit and Yamal’s 2025 flag-waving is stark. Different moments, different contexts, different intentions. But symbols matter deeply when moral perspectives shift.
Argentina’s footballers aren’t accountable for Milei, nor can a nation’s politics be erased from how we watch sports. Milei has embraced Trump, calling himself “the most Zionist president in the world” at the moment Palestinian lives face unprecedented destruction.
In March, the UN General Assembly passed a resolution addressing the transatlantic slave trade’s historical injustices and demanding reparatory justice. 123 countries voted yes, 52 abstained. Only three nations opposed it: the United States, Israel, and Argentina.
This alignment is remarkable. On issues central to humanity’s greatest crimes and demands for justice, Trump’s America, Netanyahu’s Israel, and Milei’s Argentina stood nearly alone.
When victims of historical injustices seek recognition, accountability, and reparations, these same governments frequently position themselves against such demands.
Yes, I watched a football match.
I admired Messi’s greatness. I celebrated Argentina’s rich football heritage.
But I wanted Spain to win.
And Spain won.
Perhaps this reveals how Gaza has transformed our moral compass. Countries once distant now feel close because they spoke when others remained silent. Governments we rarely considered have earned respect for refusing to look away during profound moral challenges.
Last night, that moral perspective spilled onto a football pitch.
Millions celebrated Spain’s triumph for love of Spanish football, admiration for Yamal, or simply because their team won the sport’s greatest prize.
Many others celebrated in solidarity with Palestinians.
A World Cup victory cannot deliver justice to Palestine. Spain’s win won’t feed a hungry child in Gaza or restore destroyed homes. We must never confuse symbolism with justice.
Humans live partly through symbols. For many observers, Spain’s red shirt carried meaning beyond its historical design.
When Yamal and his teammates lifted the World Cup, I celebrated alongside them.
Not because football can erase what has occurred in Gaza.
But because Gaza changed how I watch even the most beautiful game.
The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.
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