Morocco won the bid to host the event; now it must win the narrative
Morocco may be experiencing the paradox of invisible success. It has delivered world-class infrastructure, ensured an organization that has been praised by all, and offered a festive, generous, safe, and popular experience. And yet, in some quarters of international opinion—especially African, European, and Arab, though not all—the prevailing judgment remains fragile, sometimes hostile, often biased. This brings us back to a disturbing conclusion: the quality of the organization no longer guarantees the quality of the narrative.
The narrative is now constructed as meticulously as the infrastructure itself. Sport is a showcase, of course, but it is also a narrative battlefield. Mega-events today are showcases of soft power and modernity, but also spaces where the information war is intense.
International media, activist NGOs, ideological influence networks, social media influencers, and competing states combine their efforts to shape an image, sometimes by spreading “alternative facts.” The event then becomes a pretext for conveying narratives that serve other agendas. In a hyperconnected world where agendas intersect, soft power is never without controversy.
The World Cup in Qatar was flawless in terms of infrastructure and organization: spectacular stadiums, impressive fan zones, and a remarkable national effort in terms of welcome, hospitality, and human warmth. Nevertheless, the global narrative, often implicitly racist and Arabophobic, was largely dominated by political and moral criticism. A narrative constructed, sometimes methodically, to overshadow or even deconstruct the Qataris' organizational success rather than evaluate it fairly.
The classic mistake made by many countries hosting major events is to confuse communication with ownership of the narrative. Institutional advertising campaigns are essential, but their main role is to showcase the host country, its infrastructure, and its institutions. Activating influencers can create spikes in attention and temporary buzz, but their impact is limited in time, driven by fleeting emotions. As for event storytelling, it weaves narratives often linked to spectacular images or facts... that are quickly forgotten.
Communication mobilizes enormous resources, but on its own it contributes little to the sustainable construction of a strategic narrative. Appropriating the national narrative requires other methods, other tools, and above all, a long-term vision.
It is necessary to move from simple promotion to the construction of genuine narrative credibility. However, narrative credibility is a complex process. It requires continuity, a sustained multilingual presence on the international stage, a permanent capacity for monitoring and reaction, as well as a strong capacity to produce endogenous, credible, and exportable content.
A few Moroccan influencers contribute here and there, but this remains individual, scattered, and above all, not backed by a strategic vision or substantial institutional resources. The need is there. The popular will is there. What is still lacking is a clear, committed, and structured institutional and political will.
“The strategic risk of jointly organizing the 2030 World Cup is simple. Whoever controls the international narrative will carry more weight than whoever provides the best logistics.”
The narrative is not marketing. We are not selling a product. In reality, it is cultural geopolitics. Narrative sovereignty assumes that the country controls its own narrative. When it lets others speak for it, it ceases to be the subject and becomes the object of global conversation.
Countries that invest in international media, think tanks, cultural and academic platforms do so neither for the sake of image nor national ego. They do so to stabilize, over the long term, favorable, credible, and influential representations in the spaces where perceptions, norms, and often decisions are made.
Morocco has achieved great successes, but the road to fully mastering its influence is still long. It benefits from legendary hospitality, recognized security stability, a national passion for soccer, and African leadership patiently built up over the years.
On the other hand, major gaps remain in the field of international narrative. Morocco's structured presence on TikTok, YouTube, and Instagram remains weak, particularly in the strategic languages of English, Spanish, Portuguese, German, Mandarin, Russian, and Hindi. And even when content does exist in Arabic and French, it remains largely scattered, uncoordinated, and lacking a strategic approach based on clear, measurable, and assessable objectives. The narrative is most often reactive, defensive, and overly institutional.
In this strategic vacuum, the field is too often left to opposing, sometimes openly hostile narratives, promoted by regimes that we are familiar with, but also relayed by certain ideological circles in Europe. On the one hand, there is a section of the radical left, quick to essentialize Morocco through simplistic postcolonial frameworks. On the other, certain currents of the European radical right, geographically very close to the Kingdom and deeply marked by a morphophobic and security-oriented vision of relations with the South.
The strategic risk of the joint organization of the 2030 World Cup between Morocco, Spain, and Portugal is simple. Whoever controls the international narrative will carry more weight than whoever provides the best logistics.
It is no longer enough to be a good organizational student. You have to become a central player in the production of global storytelling. Among the best international practices is the adoption of strategic multilingualism: English, Spanish, French, Arabic, Portuguese, Russian, German, Mandarin, and Hindi. It is not just a matter of translating press releases, but of continuously producing narratives, videos, images, human stories, and above all micro-content created by local and international creators.
It is not a question of glossing over reality, but of embracing strengths and weaknesses to give them a human, narrative, and credible expression. The narrative should not artificially embellish, but structure meaning.
The challenge is to create a true ecosystem of creators, not just influencers. Influencers generate visibility; narrative creators build credibility. This requires training, supporting, and mobilizing documentary filmmakers, cultural vloggers, independent sports journalists, and, above all, visual storytellers. And this work must be done before, during, and after the competition, not just during the event.
In this context, territorial storytelling is essential. We must not only talk about stadiums and matches, but also about cities, neighborhoods, local cultures, and the human stories surrounding soccer. We must make the World Cup a social narrative, not just a sporting product.
Finally, mastering the narrative requires an approach based on data and strategic listening: international narrative monitoring, the ability to detect controversies early on, and rapid, credible, and non-bureaucratic response mechanisms. Today, the battle for public opinion is fought in hours, not weeks.
The governance of the narrative must be a matter for the state, not simply a communication strategy. The 2030 narrative must be interministerial, involving several actors from the public, private, and civil society sectors. It must go beyond the amateurism that is still evident here and there, and cannot under any circumstances be driven solely by event-based communication. This is a matter of national reputation, not the promotion of an event.
In conclusion, winning games is no longer enough: we must also win the conversations. Morocco has proven that it knows how to build, organize, and mobilize. The real challenge for 2030 lies elsewhere. It is now a question of knowing how to tell, embody, and impose our own narrative. In the era of global platforms, it is not only those who are most successful who are best perceived, but those who master the language of the world.
Article published in le360