Inter-national: Diaspora and eligibility create a global World Cup

It might sound clichéd to say the World Cup is more than just a football tournament – but it's also something of a quadrennial insight into the sociology, ethnicity and ethnography of the competing nations. 

And the 2026 men's World Cup suggests we live in a world where migration, as politically controversial as it may be, is a simple fact.  

Consider these statistics. Of the 2026 World Cup's 48 squads, 40 include a player born outside the country they're representing. 

And these players are not outliers, a singular stranger in the squad. In all, 292 of the 1,248 players – nearly 24% – were born abroad. That's well up on the 16.5% at Qatar 2022, and more than double the percentage at any of the seven World Cups before that.

For a tournament which sadly can provoke the worst jingoism, that's quite a confirmation of the freedom of movement in an increasingly globalized world. 

But the bare numbers hide a number of fascinating facts and factors as to why this might be. 

Colonialism and diaspora

Firstly, the ethnic makeup of some squads is determined by European colonialism, which in most cases has changed over the years to a more equitable commercial and cultural kinship. 

The most notable example of this might be Curaçao – the smallest nation by both population and area to ever reach the World Cup finals. A Caribbean island on the South American continental shelf, it became a Dutch colony in 1634 and remains part of the Kingdom of the Netherlands.

That goes some way to explaining why 25 of Curaçao's 26 squad members were born in the Netherlands – but with Curaçaoan ancestry. FIFA's nationality eligibility rules allow players to represent either their birth nation, or that of their genetic parents or grandparents. 

While the Dutch have a sovereign fraternity with Curaçao, it was particularly bittersweet for them to be eliminated in the first knockout round by some more Dutch-born players – representing Morocco. 

Left-back Noussair Mazraoui, born in Leiderdorp to Moroccan parents, played every minute of the Round of 32 win over the country of his birth – and from the 75th minute he was joined by Anass Salah-Eddine, born in Amsterdam to Moroccan parents. 

Morocco's squad features 19 foreign-born players, mostly nurtured through youth academy systems in the European countries they were born in. Ten of the 11 players that started against the Netherlands were born abroad to Moroccan emigrés; Mazraoui lined up alongside four from Spain, three from France and one each from Belgium and Canada.

Difficult choices 

As this idea of harvesting the diaspora has taken hold, more and more fledgling footballers are facing tough choices: should they represent the country of their birth or the land of their forebears?

When Sweden's Yasin Ayari opened the scoring against Tunisia, he was almost sheepish, refusing to celebrate. Because although Ayari was born in Sweden, his father is Tunisian. (For the record, his mother is Moroccan, so he could have represented them, too).

The England squad have two players born aboard: Marc Guehi (Cote d'Ivoire) and Trevoh Chalobah (Sierra Leone). But their team-mates have ancestries which could have allowed them to represent more than a dozen other countries.

Those ancestral nations highlight England's history of immigration, global and national – from within the British Isles (Scotland and the Republic of Ireland), from Africa (Angola, DR Congo, Ghana, Kenya, Nigeria) and from the Caribbean (Dominican Republic, Grenada, Jamaica, St Kitts, Saint Vincent and the Grenadines). 

For some players, footballing nationality can be something of an accident of birth. In early 2001, a Nigerian-born couple living in the UK visited New York; they were blocked from boarding the return flight when airline staff cited safety concerns for the woman, seven months pregnant. 

That's how Folarin Balogun came to be born in Brooklyn – meaning he could have represented the US, England or Nigeria. He chose the US, and 25 years later he became a hero by scoring three goals for the joint-hosts. 

Family ties (or not)

The plurality of national identity has thrown up a few curiosities at the 2026 World Cup – perhaps foremost among which is three pairs of brothers representing different countries. 

John and Harry Souttar were born in Aberdeen to a Scottish father and Australian mother; John chose his father's nation, Harry his mother's. Guéla and Désiré Doué were born in France to a French mother and Ivorian father; Guéla chose his father's flag, Désiré his mother's.

Nico and Inaki Williams were born in Spain to Ghanaian parents; Inaki went with Ghana, Nico with Spain. Also playing in the tournament were half-brothers Brian Brobbey (Netherlands) and Derrick Luckassen (Ghana). 

Before 2026, this fraternal dissonance had happened only twice – when half brothers Jerome and Kevin Prince Boateng played in two World Cups (2010 and 2014) representing Germany and Ghana respectively. Curiously – and awkwardly for the family – in both tournaments they lined up against each other on the pitch.

Besides birthright and ancestry, there is one more way a player can 'pick' a nationality. FIFA rules allow a player who has lived continuously for at least five years after reaching the age of 18 on the territory of the relevant association to represent that nation. 

This 'naturalization' rule – coupled with a selective admission of the country's immigrant diasporas – is part of how Qatar's squad came to have players born in 11 other nations: Algeria, Belgium, Brazil, Egypt, France, Ghana, Portugal, Senegal, Somalia, Sudan and Tunisia. 

Liberté, egalité, eligibilité 

Only one nation can reasonably claim to have the strongest influence on this World Cup. No fewer than 98 players in the final squads were born in, and eligible for, France. An astonishing 76 of them were chosen for teams that aren't France. 

Algeria's squad included 13 French-born players, Haiti's 12 and Senegal's 10, with several more dotted around DR Congo, Cote d'Ivoire and other Francophone former colonies.

Those colonial ties matter because the majority of these players were born to parents who had moved to France, hoping the common language could help overcome cultural differences. 

But not every migrant is "pulled" by the prospect of a better life in another country: some are "pushed" by escaping potentially lethal difficulties in their homeland. 

And it's in this spirit that we should examine the squad of a country with a long and often troubled history of immigration: Australia.

Before the tournament, the Socceroos squad recorded a video that went viral, explaining how their 26 men come from at least 15 different cultural and ethnic backgrounds. 

Indeed, four of them were child refugees. Nestory Irankunda was a Burundian refugee born in Tanzania; Mohamed Touré was a Guinea-born Liberian refugee; Awer Mabil was born a South Sudanese refugee in Kenya; Milos Degenek fled Croatia as an 18-month-old, living in Serbia as a refugee before moving to Sydney at age 6.

Like all international sporting occasions, the World Cup reminds us all that even though boundaries exist, we are all people.