Global football body Fifa is branding the World Cup 2026 – and global football in general – as a celebration of inclusivity and diversity. It’s presented as a harbinger of peace and hope, and even somehow a saviour of African migrants who drown while attempting to cross the Mediterranean Sea.
The humanitarian posturing should not distract us from the existence of a precarious global class of migrants. They have travelled (especially from west Africa) to Europe (and elsewhere) by various means, with dreams of playing football for a living. As plenty of research has shown, many become stranded as unauthorised migrants, manipulated by deceitful agents, or exploited by football clubs.
Despite nuanced and long-standing research on this topic, west African football migrants are still routinely in the headlines for more sensational reasons. They are being reported on as either victims of human trafficking or as stellar performers in elite football.
Human trafficking in and through football certainly exists. It’s been thoroughly explained by scholars and investigative journalists. But focusing only on victimhood or elite stars does no justice to the more common realities, aspirations and challenges of migrants who are reshaping today’s Europe and its football.
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I’ve spent more than a decade conducting anthropological research on football-related migrations from west Africa to Europe. Most recently, I interviewed migrants in Belgium and eastern Europe, building on my previous work with aspiring players in western Cameroon.
I found that, between the alarmist headlines and saviour narratives, the actual story is one of a highly precarious class of ambitious and resilient migrants navigating a treacherous profit-driven industry and violent border regimes.
Football dreams
A recent survey by migration scholars in west Africa asked young people (18-39) what their most important dream in life was. In Ghana, 13% of young men said it was to become a professional footballer. In The Gambia, it was 10%.
These are very high percentages, and would likely be much higher if the survey was among a younger population (like 15-30). They’re especially striking when you consider that only very few aspirants have a realistic chance of “making it” as professionals.
Football opportunities in west African domestic leagues are limited, uncertain, and often not very well paid. Dreaming of professional football almost always means dreaming of migrating overseas.
Playing and training for football has become one of the most desirable ways for young men to attempt to migrate, earn a living, and start providing for their families. The aspiring west African footballers attempt to travel everywhere, though Europe remains the most preferred destination.
Migration as hustle
Young men from countries like Ghana, The Gambia, Côte d’Ivoire and Nigeria travel to Europe by whatever route is available. Many of these routes have little to do with official transfers of players between clubs.
One aspiring Ghanaian footballer I met in 2024 in Belgium, for example, arrived in Europe by boat. This was through a clandestine route, via Libya and Italy, that some of his Gambian friends called “the backway”. Only after arriving to Europe did he start looking for football opportunities in lower division clubs. He lived with his father and brother in Belgium while applying for a residence permit based on family reunification.
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Not all take a dangerous route. But much of the football-inspired migration takes place on an informal level, through informal intermediaries and family members already living abroad. Officially sanctioned transfers are limited to those most talented – and most lucky.
The footballers I worked with sometimes call this a “hustle”. The term is also used more generally in west Africa for finding a way of getting a livelihood, usually by negotiating an uncertain but flexible informal economy.
For aspiring migrants, it means finding ways to become mobile and navigate transnational waters in a context in which visa applications are consistently rejected and regular migration routes are difficult to come by.
A golden prison
The hustle can be exciting, rewarding, but also incredibly tough and full of suffering. One of my research participants was an Ivorian who became stranded in Belgium as an unauthorised migrant after having been mismanaged by a greedy agent. He described his situation as a “golden prison”. Golden because of the opportunity for a shining career in Europe, and a prison because of an unauthorised status that left him fearful and confined to a small bedroom.
When I asked young men like him why they stayed in Europe after not signing football contracts, they would reply that they had to keep fighting. That they were aware they might never get another opportunity to leave Africa again, for football or otherwise. In other words, stringent border regimes prevented them from moving more freely. They pushed them towards unauthorised routes and societal margins.
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Authorities often single out rogue agents and traffickers in order to combat the problem. But these individuals are only part of a set of larger issues.
I also followed and interviewed football intermediaries – agents, coaches, and club owners who seek to arrange and control the footballers’ mobility. I found that they were driven both by profit and by a genuine desire to help young men achieve their dreams. When I asked them why they pursued uncertain (and sometimes shady) deals and frequently changed their plans, they explained that they had to respond to ever-changing demands of the global market. The brokers were entrepreneurs busy with a “hustle” of their own: the speculative and fickle global business of football transfers.
Finally, when I asked the footballers why they travelled in the first place, they would reply that economic opportunities for young people in west Africa cannot compare to those available overseas, in football and otherwise. A key reason young men are driven to search for “greener pastures” is the glaring economic inequality between the global north and the global south.
Systemic inequalities
Issues like these – speculative capitalism, violent borders, global inequalities, and a racism that is both obvious and covert – are structural and deeply rooted. They’re not exclusive to football migrations.
These issues will not be resolved by simply hunting down rogue agents. Indiscriminate labels of “trafficking” and “slave trade” can effectively conceal common problems experienced by the majority of migrants. They obscure underlying inequalities that make their paths precarious.
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The stories of football migrants in my study do not so much capture headline-grabbing instances of a modern slave trade, and certainly not the self-congratulatory narratives of diversity and inclusion. They reveal a much more common story – of ambition and resilience in an unequal and unjust world.
