Before Telling People to Go Home by Marianne Rothmann
The World Cup is one of the few events where the world gathers on a single stage. Players from every continent compete, fans celebrate their heritage, and national pride is displayed openly. At the same time, many societies are experiencing growing polarization around immigration, identity, religion, and belonging.
One of the frustrations in these debates is how quickly they are reduced to slogans like "Go home," "They don’t belong," or "They should assimilate." Such statements rarely acknowledge the complexity behind migration. People move for many reasons—economic opportunity, family reunification, education, political instability, persecution, and war.
History also plays a role. Colonialism reshaped borders, economies, and political systems across Africa, Asia, the Middle East, and the Caribbean. Its impact went far beyond politics and economics. Colonialism disrupted cultures, traditions, languages, and ways of life. Families were separated, communities were fractured, and generations grew up disconnected from their roots. In many places, people were taught that their customs, beliefs, and languages were inferior, often pressured or forced to adopt the culture of the colonizing power.
The effects are still visible today. Many young people find themselves navigating between preserving their heritage and assimilating into cultures that were once imposed upon their ancestors. Languages disappear, traditions fade, and cultural identities become diluted over generations. Cultural continuity—the passing down of stories, values, customs, and collective memory from one generation to the next—remains one of the most lasting casualties.
What is often missing from today’s immigration debates is an understanding of this history. There is a profound irony in demanding assimilation from newcomers while overlooking the fact that entire populations were once forced to assimilate under colonial rule. Many societies that now criticize immigrants for maintaining cultural traditions fail to acknowledge how colonial systems systematically suppressed languages, erased identities, and disrupted generations.
Wars, international interventions, and geopolitical conflicts have also displaced millions of people, creating refugees and asylum seekers who often have no choice but to seek safety elsewhere. These realities are frequently ignored when people are told to "go home." Migration is often discussed as if it exists in isolation, separate from the historical and political forces that helped shape it.
There is a striking inconsistency in many public debates about women, freedom, and identity. Media narratives often describe women as being “oppressed” for wearing a head covering, while in other contexts—such as parts of Europe including Sweden—there are discussions about restricting or discouraging women from wearing it in the name of liberation or neutrality.
Nuance is often missing in these conversations, along with historical awareness. The debate rarely holds both realities at once: that some women are forced to cover, while others are pressured—formally or socially—not to cover. The discussion becomes polarized, leaving little space for women’s own voices or lived experiences.
This is where ignorance of colonial history and forced assimilation becomes relevant. Entire populations were once pressured to abandon cultural and religious expression in the name of “civilization” or “progress.” When that history is forgotten, similar patterns can reappear in modern form, even if the language has changed.
In Europe, including Sweden, debates about Muslim communities and the hijab often become symbolic battles over national identity. Discussions about head coverings are frequently reduced to simple talking points, while the voices and experiences of Muslim women receive far less attention. Public debate tends to focus on visible expressions of faith while overlooking the broader historical and geopolitical realities that shape migration and displacement.
South Africa shows a different but related tension. A country with a history of solidarity across the African continent during the struggle against apartheid has also experienced outbreaks of xenophobia directed at immigrants from neighboring countries. Economic hardship, unemployment, and political frustration can be redirected toward vulnerable groups instead of the deeper structural challenges at play.
The irony of the World Cup is that it shows a different reality. National teams reflect increasingly diverse societies. Many players carry immigrant backgrounds, dual heritage, or family histories shaped by movement across borders. The same people some critics tell to "go home" are often celebrated when they score, lead, contribute, and represent their countries on the global stage.
Identity is not a zero-sum game. A person can be fully rooted in their heritage while also belonging to the place they live. A nation can preserve culture while welcoming change. Human history has always been shaped by movement, exchange, adaptation, and blending.
The World Cup offers a reminder of what becomes possible when difference is not treated as threat. People from different languages, religions, races, and histories can share the same field, follow the same rules, and celebrate the same game. That vision of humanity is not perfect, but it points toward something worth holding onto: understanding history and understanding each other still matters.
