JAKARTA - It’s that time of the year. The 2026 FIFA World Cup is being played this summer in the United States, Canada, and Mexico, and the squad lists carry two kinds of information. One is football, meaning who the manager thinks can win matches.
The other is historical, legal, and personal, meaning how citizenship, family roots, migration, and FIFA eligibility rules shape who can put the shirt on.
The tournament has expanded to 48 teams and 104 matches, the largest edition since the 32-team format began at France 1998. The AFC, Asia’s football governing body, has nine qualified nations this year, the most ever.
South Korea, Japan, Saudi Arabia, and Iran have all been at the World Cup before, and so have Australia, which joined the AFC in 2006. Qatar hosted in 2022 and returned this time as a competing side. Iraq is back for the first time since Mexico 1986, with Jordan and Uzbekistan at their first World Cup.
The powerhouses of France, Germany, England, Argentina, and the Netherlands have all built squads around players whose family roots trace back to former colonies and diaspora communities, or migration waves.
The AFC’s nine teams also work the same way, and the outputs vary because their migration histories, citizenship laws, diaspora patterns, and football pathways differ.
Nationality vs. Eligibility, in FIFA’s Eyes
Adidas Trionda ball at the FIFA World Cup 2026 Draw Reception in Washington, DC, Dec. 6, 2025. Photo: UKinUSA, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons CC.
According to FIFA’s regulations, national-team eligibility begins with nationality. FIFA states that proof of nationality is given through a “permanent international passport.”
To satisfy FIFA eligibility, a player first needs the country’s passport. After that, FIFA checks whether he has a valid link to the association through birth, parentage, grandparentage, residence, or an approved association switch.
FIFA’s five-year residency rule matters mainly in naturalisation cases where a player has no birth, parental, or grandparental link to the country he represents. Qatar became a key example in the early 2000s after attempting to naturalise foreign players with limited prior connection to the country.
Then, in response, FIFA introduced a clearer “genuine link” requirement in 2004 and later tightened the residency route in 2008 from 2 years to 5 years after age 18.
Maarten Vink, a comparative citizenship scholar and founder of the GLOBALCIT database, told Migrant Times that all of these legal variables matter, depending on individual and country circumstances.
“Citizenship by descent will be relevant especially for descendants of migrants, either second or third generation, or further generations back,” he said.
Ordinary naturalisation covers players who acquired citizenship through residence — Vink points to Brazil-born Diego Costa, who accessed Spanish citizenship through facilitated rules for Ibero-Americans, as a useful example.
Then there is what Vink calls exceptional naturalisation. He says, “For countries without large diasporas in highly ranked football countries, as is the case for many Asian countries, they may resort to special naturalisation.”
Antoine Duval, a scholar of transnational sports law and FIFA regulation at the University of Amsterdam, describes what FIFA is doing on top of all that.
A state’s decision to grant citizenship is a prerequisite, Duval says, but FIFA also “exercises a check on the state’s decision to allocate its nationality” and can refuse eligibility when the connection to the country is too thin.
A passport obtained through a fast-track process does not automatically mean FIFA eligibility. Duval says FIFA considers such arrangements “an illegitimate disjunction of the players and the communities they are supposed to represent in international competitions.”
For this feature, Migrant Times uses one pooled “migration-linked” count. It includes players who were born abroad, have at least one parent or grandparent from another country, hold a documented second-country background, or have a documented migrant family background.
The count is descriptive. It is not a strict count of naturalised players, foreign-born players, or FIFA association-switch cases.
Australia’s Open Pool
Tim Cahill (dark blue), ex-Western Samoa youth international and Australia’s record men’s goalscorer, during Chile v Australia in 2017. Photo: Voltmetro, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons.
Australia’s migration story stretches far beyond football and the post-World War era.
The decades after World War II were a major turning point for the country as displaced Europeans, mainly from Poland, Yugoslavia, and the Baltic states, arrived under the 1947 International Refugee Organisation–Australian Government Agreement.
Then, the intake widened. After the Vietnam War, Australia admitted large numbers of refugees from Southeast Asia. By the mid-2000s, its offshore Humanitarian Program was prioritising UNHCR-referred refugees from Africa, followed by the Middle East and South-West Asia.
Now, Australia stands out as one of the AFC’s clearest migration-linked cases.
Across recent World Cups, the Socceroos have repeatedly drawn on players shaped by diaspora, descent and association-switch pathways, from Tim Cahill (Samoa) and Matthew Spiranović (Croatia and England) to Jackson Irvine (Scotland), Jamie Maclaren (Germany), Aaron Mooy (the Netherlands) and Aziz Behich (Turkish Cyprus).
Tony Popovic, the Socceroos’ manager, is now bringing a squad of 26 to North America in his first World Cup as a head coach, having taken charge of the Socceroos in September 2024. He replaced Graham Arnold after Australia drew 0-0 with Indonesia in the third round of the 2026 FIFA World Cup qualifiers.
Eighteen of Australia’s 26 players fall into the pooled migration-linked count. Their links range from family roots and dual nationality to refugee background, overseas birth, and documented migration history.
The names include Alessandro Circati, who had Italy youth involvement before choosing Australia, and Cristian Volpato, who represented Italy at youth level before completing Australia paperwork. Jacob Italiano also has a publicly documented Australian-Italian nationality/background connection.
For some players, however, the story is less about eligibility rules than displacement.
Nestory Irankunda was born in a refugee camp in Tanzania after his parents fled Burundi, and Awer Mabil spent part of his childhood in Kakuma Refugee Camp in Kenya before his family settled in Adelaide.
The Qatar Route (and Strategy)
Fans shop for team jerseys before the 2026 FIFA World Cup in Dhaka, Bangladesh, June 7, 2026. Photo: S.M.M.Musabbir Uddin, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia
Danyel Reiche of the United Arab Emirates University in Al-Ain, who has researched sport policy and naturalisation in Qatar, said countries that rely heavily on naturalised players tend to have small populations and are relatively young nations.
“Larger countries such as Saudi Arabia and Iraq have bigger populations and rich football traditions and consequently mainly use local players,” he told Migrant Times in an interview.
Qatar’s model is different from Australia’s. Instead of drawing from a large diaspora, it has relied more on players who built ties to the country through the domestic league, often over many years, and on players with family migration links connected to Africa and the Arab world.
This also sits alongside a football system built around Aspire Academy, one of the most advanced and well-funded sports institutions in the world.
For Qatar’s final 2026 squad, Migrant Times counts 24 of 26 players as migration-linked under its pooled definition. The group includes players with documented foreign birth, ancestry, second nationality, or migrant family background.
This is not a new pattern for Qatar. When The Maroons hosted the World Cup in 2022, the squad already included players whose Qatar links came through naturalisation, long-term domestic football, birthplace, parentage or contested eligibility routes.
Pedro Miguel, for example, came through Portugal and Cape Verde before becoming a Qatar international after playing for Doha-based Al Ahli from 2011 and later moving to Al Sadd in 2016.
Some of those 2022 cases also carry into 2026. Boualem Khoukhi, an Algeria-born player publicly described as naturalised for Qatar or holding Qatari citizenship, remains part of the squad.
So do Karim Boudiaf, a France-born player publicly described as having acquired Qatari nationality, and Mohammed Muntari, the Ghana-born forward who later represented Qatar.
Almoez Ali’s case is more complicated. He was part of the eligibility dispute after Qatar’s 4-0 semi-final win over the UAE at the 2019 Asian Cup, when the UAE when the UAE challenged his eligibility on FIFA residency grounds.
The AFC dismissed the protest, and CAS later upheld Ali’s eligibility. Ali’s mother was found to hold dual Qatari-Sudanese nationality and to have been born in Qatar.
That Arab links in Qatar’s squad go back to the Gulf’s labour turn after the 1973–74 oil boom. From the mid-1970s, Gulf states needed teachers, doctors, administrators, security workers and coaches, and Arabic-speaking migrants from Egypt and Sudan were part of that first big wave.
Egyptians shifted heavily toward Gulf labour markets from the mid-1970s, with Sudanese migration growing from the late 1970s into the 1980s as Gulf demand met economic pressure at home.
Tunisia, on the other hand, was smaller, but its skilled migration to the Gulf also developed from the 1970s, especially in education and health.
Iran, Iraq, and the European Diaspora
Iraq line up before a 2014 World Cup qualifier vs Oman in Doha. Before 2026, their only World Cup was Mexico 1986. Photo: Doha Stadium Plus/Mohan. CC.
Many Iranian and Iraqi footballers are born or raised in Europe because their families left decades of instability behind.
Iranians fled the 1979 Revolution and the Iran–Iraq War of the ‘80s, settling in Germany, the UK, and France. Iraqis, on the other hand, left after Saddam Hussein’s repression, the Gulf War, and the U.S. 2003 invasion, often first arriving as students before claiming asylum in Europe.
EU resettlement programs, such as the 2008 initiative for Iraqi refugees, then reinforced these networks.
Iran has also repeatedly included players with overseas birth, descent, or association-switch backgrounds across its World Cup squads since Germany 2006.
Some were born abroad to Iranian families, while others had previously represented Germany, the Netherlands, or Sweden before switching to Iran.
The list includes Ferydoon Zandi (Germany; 2006), Ashkan Dejagah (Germany; 2014 and 2018), Steven Beitashour (United States; 2014), Daniel Davari (Germany; 2014), Reza Ghoochannejhad (the Netherlands; 2014 and 2018) and Saman Ghoddos (Sweden; 2018 and 2022).
As of the 2026 edition, Iran has two players in the pooled migration-linked dataset: Dennis Dargahi and Ghoddos.
Dargahi, Standard Liège’s number-10 man, was born in Bonn and has Iranian paternal ancestry, an Iranian-passport pathway, and reported FIFA eligibility clearance. After administrative issues delayed his involvement in Iran’s March 2026 friendlies, Dargahi received an Iranian passport and FIFA clearance ahead of the World Cup preparations.
Ghoddos, meanwhile, was born in Malmö to Iranian parents. He previously represented Sweden at senior level before switching to Iran.
As for Iraq, they returned for the world’s biggest football prize for the first time since Mexico 1986, when the team qualified amid the Iran–Iraq War and could not play a single qualifier on home soil. After departing Australia’s hot seat, Graham Arnold took charge of The Lions of Mesopotamia.
This year, Iraq’s squad draws heavily on its European diaspora, with 12 of 26 players in the pooled migration-linked count. Many developed abroad, particularly in Sweden, Germany, Denmark, Norway, and the United Kingdom, with links tied to descent, dual nationality, family migration, overseas upbringing, or association-switch mechanisms.
That overseas imprint runs through the squad. Hussein Ali grew up in Malmö, Merchas Doski was born in Hanover, Frans Putros in Aarhus, and Zidane Iqbal in Manchester. Ali Al-Hamadi of Ipswich Town and Rebin Sulaka of Thailand’s Port FC also left Iraq as children and completed their football development abroad.
Elsewhere in Asia, the Exceptions
Saudi Arabia’s national team at the 2022 World Cup group match vs Mexico, Qatar. Photo: Saudi Press Agency (SPA), CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons.
For the remaining AFC teams at the 2026 World Cup, the pooled migration-linked counts are smaller. Unlike Australia, Qatar, or Iraq, the players counted in their final 26-man lineups are mostly individual cases, tied to family roots or childhoods spent abroad.
Japan’s case this year is Zion Suzuki. Born in Newark to a Japanese mother and Ghanaian father, the Parma goalkeeper was eligible for Japan from birth through his mother.
South Korea has Jens Castrop, born in Germany to a Korean mother and German father. The Borussia Mönchengladbach midfielder came through Germany’s youth teams of Fortuna Düsseldorf and FC Köln before switching to South Korea.
Between them, the two East Asian rivals have won six AFC Asian Cups, and migration-linked cases have appeared differently in their World Cup squads.
Japan has had a small, steady thread running through the years, from Brazil-born Alessandro Santos in 2006 and Marcus Túlio Tanaka (Brazil) in 2010 to Daniel Schmidt (United States) in 2022.
South Korea has seen far fewer. Before Castrop, the clearest World Cup example was Cha Du-ri, the son of Korean football legend Cha “Cha Boom” Bum-kun. He was born in Frankfurt, Germany during his father’s playing career at Eintracht Frankfurt in 1980 and later appeared for South Korea at the 2006 and 2010 World Cups.
Saudi Arabia, on the other hand, is a striking contrast. Around 15.7 million non-Saudis live in the kingdom, making up 44.4 percent of the population, but citizenship is difficult to obtain.
The ordinary route requires at least 10 consecutive years of legal residence, Arabic fluency, a clean police record, and a profession the country needs. Applicants are also assessed through an Interior Ministry points system that weighs qualifications and family ties to Saudi citizens.
That helps explain why migration has left a much lighter mark on the Green Falcons’ World Cup squads, whether it was the 2006, 2018, or 2022. In 2026, Saudi Arabia has one migration-linked player in the dataset: Aiman Yahya, the Riyadh-born Al-Nassr player described in public reporting as being of Yemeni origin.
Uzbekistan’s first World Cup squad has at least one migration-linked case in the squad. Igor Sergeev was born in Tashkent and came through the country’s youth teams, but public profiles also identify an Uzbekistan/Russia citizenship connection.
That Russia-linked background is hardly unusual in a country that was part of the Soviet Union until 1991 and where Russian is still widely spoken, especially in its urban centers.
Jordan’s debut squad has three migration-linked players in the dataset. Mohammad Abualnadi, who plays for Malaysian side Selangor FC based in Shah Alam, was born in Kansas and developed in the United States before representing Jordan.
Two other players, Mohammad Abu Hasheesh and Ali Azaizeh, are also counted through documented Iraq and Germany links. Under the pooled method, all three are counted together, though their individual pathways differ.
Asia arrives at the 2026 World Cup as nine teams, but when taken together, these nine squads do not follow a one-size-fits-all pattern. Who gets to wear the shirt?
Reiche, in his email for Migrant Times, puts it this way. “All countries naturalise players,” he says. “The main difference is whether athletes are privileged in naturalisation processes or whether the same naturalisation policies apply to everyone.”
