Palestine is football's taboo: You won't hear Gaza in the press box, you will in the stands

Football sees itself as the "beautiful game", one that is inclusive, global, and progressive. Through talent and hard work, kids from the favelas of Brazil or the banlieues of Paris can transform not only their lives, but those of their loved ones and their community.

More than any other global sport, football prides itself on being a people's game, unfazed by class barriers and reflective of society at large. Progress, racial, social, and gendered, unfolds on the pitch and beyond it. Football becomes both a mirror and a motor: the pitch as political space.

But when it comes to one issue, Palestine, this image collapses. Clubs that champion justice and equality are quick to silence those who stand with people living under genocide.

In recent months, major clubs have blocked symbols of support or stayed conspicuously silent as fans voice their despair over football’s inaction on Israel’s crimes in Palestine and across the region.

Just weeks ago, as Israel escalated attacks on Iran, Premier League club Tottenham Hotspur quietly blocked dozens of its own fans, not for hate speech or abuse, but for criticising Israeli footballer Manor Solomon’s vocal support for the Israeli military. These were loyal fans, ones who had stood by the club for years. But the moment they spoke up for Palestine, they were cast aside.

Tottenham later confirmed to the press that the bans were given in response to posts "about the conflict in the Middle East," and while the club later issued an apology, it didn't feel like a mistake; it felt like a warning — supporting Palestine comes with consequences. 

While Tottenham's own fans were being shut down, Solomon continued to share messages of support for the Israeli army, the same military committing daily war crimes, flattening hospitals, forcing famine, and committing genocide. The club made no comment, launched no review, and imposed no consequences. 

Members of Tottenham's digital media team have previously expressed support for Benjamin Netanyahu and the Israeli military on their personal social media accounts. So when the people shaping a club’s public messaging hold sympathies with the Israeli occupation, it’s not hard to see why some voices are amplified and others erased.

Shamefully, Tottenham isn’t the only North London club to crack down on public support for Palestine and Gaza. Arsenal, a club with a genuine progressive pedigree and strong minority support, sacked its 61-year-old kitman, Mark Bonnick, after he called Israel’s actions in Gaza “ethnic cleansing” online. Mark had worked at the club for over 20 years and is now suing for unfair dismissal, backed by the European Legal Support Centre, which argues the sacking breached UK protections on freedom of belief.

Meanwhile, first-team player Oleksandr Zinchenko posted a message in support of Israel during the bombardment. He later deleted the post and made his account private. The club neither commented nor launched an internal investigation. It did, however, open an inquiry into the co-founder of the Muslim Gooners supporters group, after resurfaced tweets criticising Israel drew public attention.

In the UK, expressing solidarity with Palestinians is risky; supporting the state that bombs them is not. It can be treated as a criminal threat—and even cost you your job, as national icon Gary Lineker found out.

Earlier this month, the BBC reportedly cancelled what would have been Lineker’s final Match of the Day interview with Mohamed Salah, fearing it might touch on Gaza. Soon after, Lineker left the BBC altogether, accused of violating social media policies by criticising Zionism.

For many, it wasn’t the post that crossed a line; it was the idea of a prime-time football show acknowledging Palestinian suffering. If someone as established as Lineker can be pushed out for speaking his mind, what hope is there for the average supporter in a keffiyeh?

Since October 2023, more than 375 Palestinian footballers have been killed in Gaza, according to the Palestinian Football Association. The total number of athletes killed has surpassed 700. Entire stadiums have been bombed. Youth teams and national squads were buried, alongside their dreams.

Among the wounded is a young aspiring footballer, a devoted Liverpool fan, whose legs were amputated after an Israeli airstrike tore through his neighbourhood. He once dreamed of playing professionally, following in the footsteps of Mohamed Salah. But instead of a future on the pitch, he now faces a life shaped by unimaginable loss. FIFA has offered no tributes, launched no campaigns, and held no moments of silence. No armbands. No gestures of remembrance. Just a cold, persistent silence. 

Fans are now asking whether FIFA’s silence is deliberate. At the start of the 2025 Club World Cup, Egyptian winger Hussein El Shahat appeared in promotional material ahead of Al Ahly’s match against Inter Miami. But the image didn’t last; it was quietly removed after fans noticed he was wearing a “Free Palestine” bracelet.

This wasn’t a mistake. Concerns have also been raised about a woman who publicly identifies as a FIFA social media manager and has promoted Israel on her personal accounts, even during periods when the Israeli military was carrying out widely documented war crimes in Gaza. FIFA has offered no explanation, no accountability. In that context, the erasure of Wessam’s record and El Shahat’s bracelet feels less like oversight, more like policy.

The same individual is also a co-founder of Her Game Too, a campaign that claims to champion inclusion in football. When fans began asking questions, the campaign blocked comments on X rather than engaging with criticism. The silence isn’t just coming from clubs and federations—it’s built into the very campaigns that claim to stand for fairness and equality.

But we, the fans, refuse to stay silent. From fans waving Palestinian flags at the FIFA Club World Cup in the US to stadiums across Spain like Rayo Vallecano, Espanyol, and Sevilla, ordinary people are showing what true solidarity looks like.

The more football authorities try to erase Palestine, the louder its presence grows.

This week, Israeli forces killed the wife of former Palestine national team goalkeeper Abdullah Shaqfa in an airstrike on Al-Mawasi, a coastal area where displaced families had sought shelter after being bombed from their homes. There were no military targets there, only tents and survivors of earlier massacres. Her killing was not accidental; it is part of a systematic campaign to erase Palestinian life. And like so many others, her death will go unrecognised by the football world.

Had this happened to the family of a player from any other country, it would have made headlines across the sports world. Broadcasters would have paused coverage. Pundits would have paid tribute. Clubs would have released statements of support. 

A sport that claims to stand for justice and equality cannot remain silent in the face of such loss. These are not isolated tragedies. They are the destruction of futures, the dismantling of communities, and the erasure of a people. Until football finds the courage to speak for lives like hers, all its principles will remain hollow.

Leyla Hamed is a UK-based sports journalist originally from Morocco and born in Spain.

Follow Leyla on X: @leylahamed

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Opinions expressed in this article remain those of the author and do not necessarily represent those of The New Arab, its editorial board or staff, or the author's employer.