Abbas Kiarostami, the renowned Iranian filmmaker, created a poignant movie titled Life, and Nothing More…, centered around the 1990 World Cup in Italy. The narrative follows a father and son who journey to a village devastated by an earthquake, which had previously served as the backdrop for Kiarostami’s earlier works. The son, eager to catch the match between Argentina and Brazil, encounters a local man who, despite mourning the loss of several family members, is diligently working to fix a television antenna to watch the iconic clash of the South American titans.
Kiarostami reflected on this moment, stating:
“This sequence is directly drawn from a similar experience during my trip to the earthquake‑stricken region in the early days after the disaster. [The man] had his left arm in a cast, was shirtless, and with his right hand was striking one stone against another at the base of the antenna to secure it. I saw that after that event, what mattered there was life – and then football.”
In the past, football and the World Cup represented a beacon of hope for many Iranians, symbolizing the spirit of resilience.
The qualification for the 1998 World Cup – achieved through a hard-fought victory over Australia – was celebrated for years as a national triumph, featuring special broadcasts, interviews, and highlight reels on state television.
Fast forward four decades, the significance of football, particularly the national team, has transformed into a contentious issue within Iranian society during a pivotal historical moment, with its roots deeply embedded in politics and the collective memory of the nation.
Iran has missed out on two World Cups since 1998, and while past qualifications sparked street festivities, the latest one did not see such celebrations. Videos showcasing earlier jubilation can be easily found online, yet there is a conspicuous absence of any footage depicting celebrations for the recent qualification.
A segment of the Iranian populace began to distance itself from the national team following the tragic death of Mahsa Amini in police custody in September 2022, which ignited one of the most significant protest movements since the Islamic Revolution. This movement, known as “Woman, Life, Freedom,” resonated deeply across the country.
As the Qatar World Cup approached, many protesters felt that the national team players had not adequately condemned the crackdown on the demonstrations. Even the players’ gesture of solidarity, standing silently during the national anthem before their match against England to honor those who lost their lives in the protests, failed to bridge the gap between the team and the disillusioned fans. Consequently, for some Iranians, the national team became synonymous with the regime, exacerbating the existing divide.
Nima, 42, who has spent many years living abroad, expressed,
“Iran’s national team has gone from being a team that represented the people during the war with Iraq or the 1998 World Cup, to a team that now promotes the regime. That’s why I no longer care what results they get.”
Economic hardships, rising costs of living, and the looming threat of war have contributed to a significant decline in the importance of football for Iranians, reaching its lowest point in decades. This is a stark contrast to the atmosphere surrounding the 2014 World Cup, where even a narrow 1–0 defeat to Argentina sparked hopeful celebrations in the streets. During the 2018 World Cup, matches were broadcast on large screens at Azadi Stadium, generating enthusiastic responses from the fans.
Arya, 38, commented,
“I’ve never seen the World Cup feel this unimportant and lacking in excitement for me. Part of it is due to war-related issues, economic conditions, and all the hardships of the past year. On top of that, there’s been a growing gap between the national team and the people in recent years.
“I don’t necessarily blame the players; maybe society expects too much from footballers. But one thing is clear: this current generation of the Iranian national team has never been able to build a proper, direct connection with the people.”
Before the Qatar World Cup, certain opposition groups attempted to pressure FIFA through letters in a bid to prevent Iran’s participation. However, these efforts seemed unlikely to succeed given FIFA’s established policies. Following a series of U.S. attacks on Iran, particularly a second wave beginning on February 28 and extending for 40 days, the prospects of Iran’s participation became increasingly uncertain, leading to a significant decline in public interest in football and the national team.
Even prior to these events, the Iranian domestic league faced unusual challenges that diminished public engagement. In the wake of the January protests that resulted in thousands of casualties (with government figures citing over 3,000 dead, while opposition sources suggest as many as 40,000), the Iranian Premier League was conducted behind closed doors, and many players chose not to celebrate after scoring.
Ali Moghani, a sports journalist and presenter for Iranian national television, observed that signs of dwindling interest in football were evident from the beginning of the season in August.
“Even though it was the season before the World Cup, this year’s league felt less exciting,” he noted. “It seemed like everyone was just going through the motions. There’s also hardly any debate about the World Cup squad. The bigger reason is that football is no longer a priority in Iranian society.”
The status of the national team is also a topic of discussion among opposition media outside Iran, influencing perceptions within the country.
Iran International, a media outlet seen as supportive of Reza Pahlavi, the son of Iran’s former Shah and operating from London, has frequently portrayed the players as aligned with the regime over the past four years.
Pejman Rahbar, editor-in-chief of Varzesh3, the most popular sports website in Iran, believes that part of the public’s detachment is a result of the negative framing by foreign-based media.
“It seems there has been a lot of negative framing against the national team,” he remarked, “especially by Persian-language media outside the country and particularly Iran International, aimed at undermining national team players. They are deserving athletes but it has to some extent succeeded in turning public opinion against them.”
Rahbar is hopeful that once international internet access, which has been restricted for nearly three months due to the war, is restored, interest in the World Cup will rebound, although he remains uncertain about the public’s feelings towards the team.
“If we look at data, such as website traffic, it seems that with the return of internet access and social media, the World Cup atmosphere in Iran will become lively again,” he stated. “There is no doubt about that. But whether that sense of attachment to the national team will be like before, I’m not sure.”
It is evident that this national team faces a more significant challenge in rallying public support compared to previous squads. Only a remarkable achievement, such as progressing beyond the group stage or reaching the knockout rounds, could restore football’s status as a symbol of hope for Iranians, reminiscent of Kiarostami’s vision.
