The 2026 FIFA Men's World Cup returns to the United States for the first time since 1994, but it arrives in a country deeply divided. While the U.S. seeks to impress the global community, it does so amid some of the most ferocious domestic disputes in its modern history regarding identity, belonging, and immigration.

A Legacy of Diversity

The history of American soccer was built on the very diversity the country now struggles to embrace. In 1930, the first U.S. World Cup team was led by Tom Florie, the son of Italian immigrants. That squad—a motley crew of textile mill workers, naturalized citizens, and blue-collar amateurs—reached the semifinals in Uruguay, a feat that remains the best World Cup showing in American history.

That 1930 team embodied a promise of inclusion. As sports historian Victoria Jackson notes, the U.S. once boasted that "there are no away teams in America," suggesting that every qualifying nation has a community of supporters waiting to receive them on American soil.

The Global Perception and Political Friction

However, the current climate has cast a shadow over the tournament. The international community is watching with a mixture of bewilderment and dread. The French sports daily L’Équipe recently highlighted this tension with a provocative front page depicting President Donald Trump wielding a puppet of FIFA president Gianni Infantino, accompanied by the headline, "Welcome to the USA."

This perception is exacerbated by rigid government policies. From ICE enforcement and travel bans to visa denials, the run-up to the tournament has been described as "cumbersome." These issues have had tangible effects; the American Hotel and Lodging Association reports significantly fewer international bookings in host cities than projected.

"It’s like we want to make money off the party we’re hosting, but we’re not willing to leverage it to talk about how the world can be more interconnected, which is sad," says Jackson.

From Military Presence to Match Day

The contrast is most visible in Los Angeles. In the neighborhood of Boyle Heights, where the tournament's opener will take place, residents remember a time just one year ago when the government deployed 700 Marines and thousands of National Guard troops following ICE raids. Now, those same streets are being adorned with flags and jerseys of competing nations.

Despite the trauma of the past year, the community remains resilient. Miriam Rodriguez, president of the Boyle Heights Chamber of Commerce, emphasizes the unifying power of the sport: "Soccer brings unity. We want to let our community know that, even in hard times, we’re still here."

As the world turns its eyes to the U.S., the tournament serves as a lens, revealing whether the "problematic host" can reconcile its diverse reality with its current political trajectory.