World Cup gray wall: Tournament leaves poor residents behind

Football fans watch fireworks during the halftime show of the 2026 World Cup final between Spain and Argentina in East Rutherford, N.J., Sunday (local time). AFP-Yonhap

The 2026 FIFA World Cup concluded Monday after Spain claimed the title, capping an unprecedented 39-day tournament across the United States, Canada and Mexico.

Expanded from 32 to 48 nations across 104 matches, the event raked in record revenue. FIFA generated $430 million in revenue from broadcast rights alone — up from $340 million during the 2022 Qatar tournament — while total revenue reached an estimated $13 billion. The commercial windfall funded a $727 million total payout to participating teams alongside a first-ever, star-studded halftime show featuring headliners BTS, Madonna, Shakira and Justin Bieber.

A gray wall built by the state government of Nuevo León stretches through the Guadalupe Victoria neighborhood in Monterrey, Mexico. Korea Times photo by Choi Joo-yeon

Yet beneath the $13 billion spectacle, co-host Mexico actively worked to push vulnerable residents out of view. In Monterrey, the government of Nuevo León erected a gray wall stretching several kilometers through the Guadalupe Victoria neighborhood, running directly along the main route connecting the airport to the World Cup stadium. The barrier hid brick homes with rusting tin roofs from visiting spectators, forcing workers to take lengthy detours on their daily commutes.

In central Monterrey, authorities also moved to hide the human toll of Mexico's ongoing security crisis. At the Plaza de los Desaparecidos — or "Plaza of the Missing" — where families post flyers of loved ones lost to drug-related violence and widespread security failures, the state government abruptly installed 1-meter planters to block the notices from view.

The move devastated families who had hoped the global spotlight would draw attention to the nation's estimated 110,000 missing persons. The Nuevo León state government said the project aimed to restore safety and dignity to the public space without removing or covering memorial symbols.

A damaged section of a gray wall, which a local resident smashed with a sledgehammer, stands in the Guadalupe Victoria neighborhood in Monterrey, Mexico. Korea Times photo by Choi Joo-yeon

For a visiting reporter from Seoul, the physical concealment of poverty in Monterrey felt less like an unfamiliar scene than a haunting reflection of home. The situation directly mirrored director Kim Dong-won's 1988 documentary "Sanggye-Dong Olympic," a 27-minute film chronicling the forced eviction of low-income residents in Sanggye-dong ahead of the 1988 Seoul Olympics.

Viewing the community as an eyesore, municipal authorities systematically drove those residents from Sanggye-dong to Myeongdong Cathedral and eventually to a vacant plot in Bucheon, where officials even denied them permission to build makeshift shelters.

That legacy of state-driven displacement did not end with the 1988 Games. Ahead of the 2014 Incheon Asian Games, street merchants on Pungmul Street in western Incheon received sudden eviction notices to make way for city beautification projects. Whether driven by a desire for national prestige or personal political standing, the impulse to sideline vulnerable residents remains an enduring fixture of Korean society.

Missing-person flyers line 1-meter-tall planters at Plaza de los Desaparecidos, or "Plaza of the Missing," in central Monterrey, Mexico. Relatives of missing victims posted the notices over the planters after state authorities installed the large pots in front of the memorial ahead of the 2026 World Cup. Korea Times photo by Choi Joo-yeon

Today, countless Korean residents continue to see their housing rights go unprotected under the banner of urban renewal and municipal "New Town" projects. This process has repeatedly produced tragedies, including the Yongsan Disaster and recurring blazes at Guryong Village, one of Seoul's last remaining shanty towns. In some cases, municipal authorities have hastily constructed public facilities over disaster memorial sites through administrative enforcement to clear physical reminders of systemic failure.

A month of reporting the World Cup in North America served as a stark reminder of these shared social scars. Whether in Monterrey or Seoul, the grandest national celebrations routinely demand the same hidden sacrifice: They push the most vulnerable off the stage so the party can go on uninterrupted.

This article from the Hankook Ilbo, the sister publication of The Korea Times, is translated by a generative AI system and edited by The Korea Times.