While billions watch the 2026 FIFA World Cup across the US, Canada, and Mexico, Palestinians in Gaza experience it differently. Most Gazans , instead of celebrations, seek basic needs like electricity and internet amid over two years of Israeli war.
The tournament, with 48 teams, is a global milestone, but in Gaza, residents face displacement, hunger, and destruction, and football remains tied to war.
For many Palestinians, the tournament also carries political significance because it is being hosted primarily in the United States, a country that is Israel’s closest international ally.
Yousef al-Haddad, a university student displaced from Gaza City, told The New Arab that he finds it difficult to separate football from politics.
"When the cameras show the stadiums in the United States, I think about how different our reality is," he said. "The same country hosting the world’s biggest football tournament is also the country that has supported Israel throughout this war."
He added that the connection is unavoidable in daily conversations.
"We see news about military aid to Israel, and then we switch channels and watch the 2026 World Cup . For many people in Gaza, those images become connected," he continued.
Sameh Abu Jarad, another displaced man from northern Gaza , described the contrast as overwhelming.
"The world is celebrating football while we are worrying about whether we will have enough food for tomorrow," he told TNA . "When I hear that the tournament is being played in America, I remember that America has stood behind Israel during the war. It makes the celebrations feel very distant from our reality."
He stressed that his frustration is not with football itself. "We all need moments of joy, and many Palestinians love football. But when your home has been destroyed, and members of your family have been killed, it becomes impossible not to think about politics when watching such a huge international event," he added. Mahmoud al-Shaer, living in a displacement camp near Khan Younis, said football conversations inevitably drift toward the war.
"We grew up watching the World Cup and dreaming about the players and the atmosphere," he said. "Today, we watch from tents. When the matches are played in the United States, many people here cannot ignore Washington’s support for Israel. It is part of every conversation."
Before Israel's genocidal war, the World Cup was central to Gaza's social life, with neighbourhoods displaying flags of Brazil, Argentina, Germany, and Spain.
Happily, back then, young people debated tactics, children wore team shirts, and streets in Gaza City, Khan Younis, Rafah, and Deir al-Balah turned into celebration zones after matches, with fans waving flags, singing, and discussing results into the early morning.
Today, most of those streets no longer exist.
Entire neighbourhoods that once hosted World Cup celebrations have been reduced to rubble by Israeli bombardment and military operations. The festive atmosphere that accompanied previous tournaments survives largely in memory.
Kazem Doghmosh, a young man from Gaza City, remembers the excitement surrounding the 2022 World Cup, held in Qatar.
"Whenever Argentina played, the streets would fill with people. Children wore Messi shirts everywhere, and flags covered entire buildings," he told TNA .
"When I look at that area now, I barely recognise it. The street where we celebrated is almost completely destroyed," he said.
He paused before adding, "Back then, we argued about football. Today we argue about displacement, aid deliveries, and news from the front lines."
His reflections capture the profound transformation of daily life in Gaza, where familiar landmarks, social traditions, and communal spaces have disappeared under the weight of war. Cafés, friendships, and memories lost to war The World Cup experience in Gaza was never confined to the streets. Cafés across the territory traditionally served as focal points during major tournaments, especially in the knockout rounds and finals.
Hours before kick-off, supporters would rush to reserve seats. Families often attended together, including groups of women who joined relatives and friends to watch matches on large screens.
During particularly high-profile games, some cafés installed additional outdoor screens to accommodate the crowds.
Now, the Israeli army has destroyed most of Gaza's cafés, while many of the remaining establishments have been forced to close because of repeated displacement, economic collapse, and ongoing insecurity.
The few newly established cafés operating amid the war face significant challenges, including electricity cuts, dependence on costly generators, and difficulties hosting public screenings of World Cup matches.
Mahmoud al-Ashi, who was displaced from Gaza City, recalls those evenings with a mixture of nostalgia and grief.
"I used to watch almost every match with my friends at a café near Gaza's seafront […] We would argue endlessly about football and then laugh about it afterwards," he told TNA .
The café no longer exists.
"One of my closest friends, who sat beside me during every tournament, was killed in an Israeli airstrike last year," al-Najjar said. "Every time I watch a match now, I remember him. Football is no longer just entertainment. It is connected to people we have lost forever."
Al-Najjar said the war has shattered the social fabric that once surrounded major football tournaments in Gaza.
"Friends who used to watch matches together have been scattered by displacement, injury, death, or migration," he said. "The communal rituals that made previous World Cups so special have become much harder to recreate."
For many Palestinians, the tournament also carries political significance because it is being hosted primarily in the United States, a country widely viewed in Gaza as Israel's closest international ally.
Mohammed Abu Shamala, who lives in a displacement tent west of Deir al-Balah, said football once dominated conversations among his relatives months before the World Cup began.
"I used to memorise the entire match schedule," he said. "Now I spend my time thinking about how to find food, drinking water, or medicine for my family."
Although he continues to follow football, he finds it difficult to separate the tournament from the broader political context when possible.
"The matches are being played in the US," he said. "Meanwhile, we are living through the consequences of American support for Israel every day."
Political researcher Hanaa al-Masri believes many Palestinians in Gaza share similar feelings.
"Football is often described as a universal language that unites people," she told TNA .
"But Palestinians experiencing a devastating war face a difficult moral question regarding the role of the host country in that conflict. As a result, the tournament is inevitably viewed through a political lens," she said. Holding onto moments of joy amid catastrophe In displacement centres across the territory, groups of young men gather around mobile phones, small televisions, or makeshift screens powered by portable batteries whenever electricity becomes available. Watching a match has become both a luxury and a form of psychological escape.
Ahmed Saidam, living in al-Nuseirat refugee camp in central Gaza, told TNA that access to matches remains unpredictable.
"We cannot watch every game because of the power cuts and weak internet, but when we get the chance, we watch whatever we can. For a few minutes, we forget everything around us. Then the match ends and reality returns," he said.
Writer and political analyst Mustafa Ibrahim believes this tension defines Gaza's relationship with the tournament.
"It is natural for people to want to enjoy football, but it is equally natural for them to feel that the world is celebrating while they continue to face killing, displacement, and deprivation," he told TNA .
Even so, many residents remain determined to preserve whatever fragments of joy they can find.
Abu Mohammed, a father of five from Khan Younis, said football still offers brief moments of relief amid overwhelming hardship.
"When I see the crowds filling the stadiums, I think about my children, who lost their playground, and my friends who are no longer here," he said. "That is why the World Cup feels different for us. But we still watch because we need something that reminds us that life continues."
For Palestinians in Gaza , the 2026 World Cup is unfolding far from the scenes of celebration visible across much of the world. The cheers echoing through packed stadiums stand in sharp contrast to the silence of destroyed neighbourhoods and the daily struggle for survival.
Yet despite the war, displacement, and grief, football remains a fragile link to a life that many fear has been lost.