Maltese MEP urges FIFA & UEFA to ban Israeli teams: How a small island reignited football’s Gaza debate

Maltese Socialist MEP Alex Agius Saliba has thrown Malta into the global debate over sport and conflict, urging FIFA and UEFA to suspend Israeli football clubs and national teams from international competition until a lasting cease-fire is reached in Gaza. Agius Saliba’s appeal, tabled in the European Parliament this week, mirrors a landmark resolution adopted by the UN General Assembly last week that asked the International Olympic Committee to bar Israel from this summer’s Paris Games.

For a country whose own national stadium doubles as a neighbourhood jogging track, the move has struck a nerve that goes well beyond the penalty box. Football is Malta’s secular religion—Sunday Mass followed by Sunday kick-off—and the idea of banning a nation from the game touches on Maltese memories of being the tiny outsider fighting for a seat at the table. When Malta joined FIFA in 1959 and UEFA in 1960, it was seen as proof that “the island could punch above its weight,” says local historian Fr. Joe Borg. “Sport was our first diplomatic passport.”

Agius Saliba, 35, a former Labour youth activist turned Brussels deal-maker, framed his request as a matter of consistency: “If Russia was excluded over Ukraine, the same rules must apply when the UN itself says there is a risk of genocide in Gaza.” The comparison is already lighting up Maltese talk-radio, with callers split between pride that “a Maltese voice is leading” and concern that “we’re poking a very big bear.”

The timing is delicate. Valletta FC is due in Israel in July for a Europa Conference League qualifier—fixtures that could now be cancelled or moved to a neutral venue. Club president Victor Sciriha says the squad just wants clarity: “Our fans have already booked budget flights. We’re a small club; every ticket counts.” Meanwhile, the Malta Football Association has adopted a cautious wait-and-see posture, noting that UEFA has so far rejected similar petitions from Ireland and Spain.

Grassroots reaction has been swift. In Balzan, youth coach Dorianne Micallef, 28, has ordered her under-15 girls’ team to swap their usual yellow-and-green strips for black armbands at this weekend’s derby. “It’s a teaching moment,” she explains. “We tell kids football is fair play. What message do we send if we ignore bombs falling on playgrounds?” Parents’ WhatsApp groups are divided; one father jokes he’ll start a sweepstake on how long before “someone brings up Palestine” at the post-match ħobż biż-żejt table.

The cultural undercurrent is unmistakable. Malta’s own history—centuries of foreign rule, 259 square kilometres of stubborn survival—breeds sympathy for the underdog. “We’re hard-wired to side with David, not Goliath,” says sociologist Dr. Anna Camilleri. “When a Maltese politician challenges football’s superpowers, it validates our tiny-nation complex.” Yet solidarity cuts both ways: the Jewish Community of Malta, numbering around 150, fears the call could stoke local anti-Semitism. “We’ve already seen graffiti in Gżira,” says community leader Reuven Ohayon. “Sport should build bridges, not burn them.”

Tourism operators are watching nervously. Israeli visitors have become a growth market—up 42 % since 2022—drawn by Malta’s sun, shared Mediterranean vibe and kosher-friendly hotels. A suspension could trigger reciprocal boycotts or travel advisories. “We’re talking millions in revenue,” warns Philip Fenech, vice-president of the Malta Hotels and Restaurants Association. “In a post-COVID economy, that’s jobs.”

Inside the European Parliament, Agius Saliba is undeterred. He insists the letter to UEFA President Aleksander Čeferin is “not anti-Israel but pro-international law,” and has begun collecting MEP signatures for an official resolution. Back home, the government has chosen strategic silence; Foreign Minister Ian Borg says Malta “respects sporting autonomy” while urging “all sides to protect civilians.”

Whether FIFA and UEFA will listen remains doubtful. Both bodies have so far hidden behind the argument that national teams are not state entities. Yet the mere fact that a Maltese MEP has forced the conversation proves, once again, that in Brussels’ labyrinth the smallest delegations can sometimes shout the loudest. For Maltese fans, the coming weeks will bring a crash course in geopolitics: every pass, tackle and VAR review now shadowed by a conflict 2,000 kilometres away. The beautiful game, it seems, is no longer just about football.