For Scotland supporters, the summer of 2026 promises something many have never experienced: a World Cup featuring their nation.
Absent since 1998, the Tartan Army are daring to dream again. Flights are being priced, host cities mapped out, and anticipation is building.
But alongside the excitement comes a more uneasy question: is the United States — the tournament’s primary host, alongside Canada and Mexico — truly ready to stage football’s biggest celebration?
FIFA president Gianni Infantino has framed the tournament in idealistic terms, describing football as a force for “peace and unity.” Yet that message lands awkwardly in a country grappling with visible political and social divisions — and increasingly complex international tensions.
Recent conflict between the US and Iran sharpens that unease. Iran have already qualified, but diplomatic hostility raises questions about visas, security, and politically charged fixtures. In some cases, the issue may not be how fans are treated on arrival — but whether they can attend at all.
Domestically, tensions further complicate FIFA’s narrative. Protests linked to immigration enforcement in cities like Minneapolis have highlighted deep divisions over policing, civil rights, and federal authority. These are not isolated flashpoints, but part of a broader and ongoing national debate.
At the centre of this is U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE), expected to play a role in tournament security. While authorities stress coordination and safety, concern is no longer abstract.
Meanwhile, workers at SoFi Stadium in Los Angeles have already taken a stand, threatening strike action in the build-up to the tournament, with one of their central demands being the exclusion of immigration enforcement agencies from World Cup operations. For them, the issue is not hypothetical — it is immediate and tangible.
Amnesty International has also warned that fans travelling from countries such as Senegal, Haiti, and Iran could face heightened risks linked to aggressive immigration enforcement, including profiling or detention. Latin American supporter communities — expected to travel in vast numbers — have raised similar concerns, particularly around border scrutiny and visa uncertainty.
Even for those with valid documentation, the picture is unclear. Questions remain over how visa processes will be handled, and whether fans with complex travel histories or dual nationality may face additional barriers. The lack of consistent, detailed guidance has only deepened that uncertainty.
Major tournaments often rely on visible, robust security to reassure attendees. Yet for some, particularly fans from migrant backgrounds, that visibility may feel less like protection and more like scrutiny.
Beyond enforcement and policing, other anxieties persist. Gun violence remains a highly publicised issue in the United States, presenting an additional psychological barrier for some first-time World Cup attendees.
The challenge for organisers is therefore not only to ensure safety, but to communicate it convincingly to a global audience — particularly against a backdrop of domestic division and international tension.
Though focusing solely on these concerns risks overlooking what the United States does exceptionally well, few countries are better equipped to host an event of this scale: large stadiums, extensive transport infrastructure, and decades of experience staging major sporting events all work firmly in its favour.
However, that infrastructure comes at a cost — and an increasingly steep one.
Ticket pricing has already drawn significant criticism for the potential to price out traditional supporters, particularly those travelling from Latin America. In host cities, concerns extend well beyond match tickets.
Boston has become a focal point for rising accommodation prices, with sharp increases in hotel and rental costs raising questions about accessibility. The United States may be able to move fans efficiently across vast distances — but hosting them affordably is emerging as a different challenge altogether.
Commercially, the US remains unmatched. Its sports industry is a global powerhouse, and the tournament is expected to generate record revenues while expanding football’s reach in one of the world’s most lucrative markets. The 1994 World Cup remains one of the most successful in history and is widely credited with accelerating the sport’s growth across North America.
So, is the United States fit to host the World Cup? The answer depends on what the tournament is meant to represent.
If defined by scale, revenue, and organisational capability, the US is not just fit — it is ideal. But if it is meant to embody football’s promise of openness, unity, and shared global experience, the picture becomes more complicated.
After 28 years away, this is a moment too significant to miss for Scotland fans. They will travel in hope — for football, for memories, and for a tournament that lives up to its ideals.
In 2026, the world will be watching not only the matches, but the host nation itself — to see whether the game can rise above division, or simply reflect it.
She/Her
Second Year History and Journalism, Media and Communication student
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