The World Cup of Happiness

In the run-up to the World Cup, Mexico presented two faces: the rich and the poor; the privileged and those fighting for their rights in the streets; those looking forward to the World Cup and those still waiting for their loved ones. The metal barriers and police cordons in Mexico City revealed the arrogance, authoritarianism, and racism of a government concerned only with the country’s public image.

On June 1, teachers from the National Coordination of Education Workers (CNTE) resumed their national strike, flooding the downtown streets of Mexico City with a massive march. The teachers formed a river of people fighting for their cause. Their slogans—“si no hay solución, no rodará el balón” (If there’s no solution, the ball will not roll) —echoed all the way to the National Palace. When they reached 20 de Noviembre, steel barriers blocked their path. The advance guard of teachers from Guerrero began trying to break through, striking the barriers with sticks and sledgehammers. They were on the verge of succeeding when police began firing tear gas and plastic bullets to disperse the protesters.

The police aimed their weapons directly at teachers Octavio Romero and Proceso González, firing to knock them down and instill fear among the protesters. Proceso was left lying on the asphalt from the force of the bullet. His colleagues helped him as best they could. Blanca, Proceso’s niece, took him to a private hospital, but they did not have the equipment to treat him. It was at the ISSSTE Primero de Octubre Hospital where he was treated, though the process was bogged down by cumbersome bureaucratic procedures. President Claudia Sheinbaum justified the police crackdown by arguing that the teachers’ protests were unwarranted because there were dialogue forums already addressing their demands.

On June 8, the mothers and fathers of the 43 missing students were detained by a police cordon at the Tlalpan toll booth. The authorities were determined to search the buses because they allegedly contained explosives. It was outrageous that Rosa Icela, a member of the National Human Rights Commission, was the one who searched the trunks of the buses, primarily those belonging to the mothers. Worst of all was the role Arturo Medina, president of the Commission for Truth and Access to Justice in the Ayotzinapa Case (Covaj), played as a police officer. He directly confronted the mothers and fathers to prevent them from passing through or carrying out their protests.

With a sense of helplessness, Don Mario González recounts the suffering of the “mothers who left the Ayotzinapa Teachers’ College at 6 a.m. and who, at 4 p.m., were still trapped, without food, suffering from chronic illnesses, and dealing with high blood sugar and high blood pressure.” Doña Hilda arrived with blood pressure over 200, but the federal government officials (who are supposedly so concerned about the mothers’ health) didn’t give a damn. All this government does is play the victim and paint us as the bad guys. They aren’t the victims—we are. We are the victims who deserve justice.

To the mothers searching for their missing children, who are now also being criminalized and insulted—as the Secretary of the Interior did when she claimed, without evidence, that they were paid to come to the march. The president needs to know that there are more missing people than are officially reported.

In the end, they were allowed to pass, and the students returned to the Ayotzinapa Teachers’ College. At noon, the mothers and fathers, accompanied by the CNTE, held a rally at the anti-monument for the 43 to denounce the police cordon and the lack of progress in the investigations into the whereabouts of their children. During the five days of protests, the undersecretary of the Interior coordinated the police operation to block the mothers and fathers of the 43 from passing through and, under no circumstances, allowed the students from Ayotzinapa to enter the city.

On June 11, during the World Cup opening ceremony, the parents went to the Tlalpan checkpoint to try to break through the cordon with the teacher-training college students. About a thousand riot police were lined up with shields and batons. Despite this heavy presence, the families and the students advanced 300 meters; the police had been ordered to contain them. They held a rally at the toll booth while confronting Arturo Medina to demand that they be allowed to pass. The official instructed police commanders to search the buses. María de Jesús, mother of the missing student José Eduardo Bartolo Tlatempa, replied that they would not allow it because “we are not criminals, and this government cannot dictate terms to us. We want truth and justice.”

Don Mario González rebuked the authorities—and Arturo Medina in particular—demanding that they let them through. “If you’re not up to the task of solving these problems, tell the person on the phone to come here so he can let us through. Our protests are peaceful; we just want to place our children’s photos on the Tlalpan highway.”

On the final day of the protest, the student teachers were not allowed through either. The teachers and the families searching for their loved ones were able to enter Mexico City, but on Tlalpan Avenue they encountered hundreds of police officers who surrounded them. “We love them, that’s why we’re looking for them,” they shouted. The banners and posters of their missing relatives served as their banner of struggle and their shields in this battle against a government that stubbornly refuses to acknowledge a reality that is bleeding our country dry.

For the mothers and fathers, it became clear that the President of the Republic was prioritizing the World Cup celebrations and silencing the protests and demands for justice from the “mothers who seek,” using police forces to cordon them off and repress them. The dialogue she touts daily during her morning press conferences turned into an insurmountable wall and manifested itself in the form of tear gas and plastic bullets. The Ministry of the Interior lashed out at the searching mothers by resorting to insults, and the undersecretary for Human Rights focused his attacks on the Ayotzinapa students by singling out two members of the Committee for Struggle as those coordinating logistics and the manufacture of explosives. Once again, the source of this information remains the state intelligence agencies controlled by the Army. The conspiratorial and counterinsurgency mindset continues to resurface in the upper echelons of the 4T administration.

Meanwhile, President Claudia Sheinbaum criticized the CNTE, asserting that it seeks to return to the practices of the past, when union leadership and state governments decided on the allocation and transfer of teaching positions. She emphasized that these practices lent themselves to corruption, which is why her administration will consult directly with the rank and file of the teaching profession. Relations with the President were severed when the CNTE refused to recognize the National Single Negotiating Commission (CNUN) as a legitimate negotiating partner.

The situation became even more tense following the CNTE’s announcement on Sunday that it would continue its protests. “We will continue with the national strike,” announced Yenny Aracely Pérez, a member of Section 22 in Oaxaca.

“The president says everything is calm and that Mexico is celebrating, that it’s joyful, but that’s only happening in her inner circle. Out here is the reality—here there are more than 130,000 missing people. Here are the ‘searching mothers’ protesting to bring attention to their struggle, so that they’ll be taken seriously. They’re not interested in boycotting a political party; what they’re demanding is justice and truth.”

“As victims, we try to speak out, but the government, FIFA, and the TV networks are only interested in the business of the World Cup—in getting people to watch the games and buy everything they advertise. That’s what the wealthy care about, but it’s not right for them to label us as instigators of violence, to insist that we’re here to cause trouble—because their supporters believe it, and they start to discredit the real movement that has nothing to do with the game.

The real Mexico is the one fighting to ensure there are no more disappeared people. It’s the grieving Mexico that never rests in its quest to find the whereabouts of the 130,000 people who have disappeared in the country. The saddest thing is that June 12 is my birthday, and I remember the last time my son told me he was arriving. He always gave me a gift; he’d play pranks on me with his foot to get me out of bed so I’d go buy the cake and meat for dinner. All those memories come flooding back, and I can’t take it anymore. They don’t care about our pain—why do they favor foreigners while telling us not to go out so we don’t reflect badly on the country? Who hates Mexico? Who hates Mexicans?”

The searching mothers revealed the true face of a country marked by violence and impunity. Their pain turned to anger at the federal government’s decision to prioritize the World Cup rather than address their demands. FIFA fans drew criticism when a group of fans took a banner bearing the faces of the disappeared from a searching mother to shelter themselves from the rain.

The president speaks of the joy of the World Cup, but deliberately ignores the pain of thousands of families who have been pleading for years to find their loved ones.

What saddened and angered the mothers and fathers searching for their children the most was that President Claudia Sheinbaum remarked during the morning press conference on June 12 that “there were those who wanted to portray a different image of Mexico. But the image of Mexico is the joy and happiness of the people—of all Mexicans.” It was a celebration of Mexico—it was truly beautiful to see both fans and non-fans celebrating the national team’s victory. The only ones who had a hard time were those who want Mexico to fail.”

Original piece by Somos el Medio published on June 16th, 2026.
Translation by Schools for Chiapas.