David’s Star and Messi: Why Argentina’s Football Stirs Up Islamists and the Global Left

It was August 2013 when Lionel Messi, the shy Argentine superstar, stood before the Western Wall in Jerusalem, a tiny kippah perched on his head and his hand resting on the ancient stones. The visit was part of Barcelona’s so‑called “peace tour” to Israel, and ever since, the football legend has set foot on Israeli soil four times. On the pitch he dazzles; off it, the images of that moment have lingered like a quiet echo.

Fast forward to 2026, and the reverberations are anything but quiet. Argentina, fresh from lifting the FIFA World Cup trophy, is now the focus of a very different kind of scrutiny. President Javier Milei, a libertarian‑right firebrand, has forged one of Latin America’s staunchest alliances with Israel. In 2024 he announced plans to move the Argentine embassy from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem – a move that Hamas slammed as an “infringement on Palestinian rights”. The rhetoric was blunt, the reaction swift, and the label “Israel of football” began to circulate among Islamist circles.

During the tournament, Argentina’s games against Muslim‑majority nations such as Algeria and Egypt turned into symbolic stand‑offs. Palestinian flags fluttered alongside the sky‑blue and white of the Argentine shirt, while a few spectators also brandished Israeli flags, creating a visual clash that felt more political than sporting. After Egypt’s upset win over Australia, coach Hossam Hassan raised a Palestinian banner on the pitch, and some Egyptian media accused referees of favouring “Messi and Israel”. Online, chants like “Messi is the enemy of Allah” echoed from pro‑Palestinian accounts, and calls for boycotts of Argentine matches spread like wildfire.

On the opposite side of the ideological spectrum, the global left has taken up a different grievance. Argentina is painted as a “white, European‑settler” nation whose national team allegedly marginalises players of African descent. The criticism sharpened after a contentious episode in the Copa América, when midfielder Enzo Fernández and teammates were accused of singing a derogatory chant aimed at Black French players. Left‑leaning commentators seized the incident as proof of systemic racism embedded in Argentine football, demanding “intersectional accountability” and accusing the squad of ignoring the “progressive‑multicultural checklist”.

Both camps, though poles apart, share a distrust of strong national identities that celebrate merit, Catholic tradition and, in Messi’s case, unapologetic pride. For Islamists, Argentina’s success feels like a gilded shield for Zionist interests; for the left, it represents an un‑reflexive glorification of a Euro‑centric, colour‑blind narrative that sidesteps historical inequities. The result is a football story that is as much about jerseys and goals as it is about embassies, holy walls and cultural fault lines.

So when Argentina meets Spain on Sunday – a clash of two World Cup‑winning nations – the stakes go well beyond ninety minutes of play. Expect a swirl of chants, banners and perhaps even a few diplomatic murmurs in the stadium corridors. Messi will, as always, be the focal point, but now he carries the weight of geopolitical symbolism as well as the ball at his feet.