After Me, The Red Card
Capital's Corner Kick: Arenas of Exploitation
«In every stock-jobbing swindle, everyone knows that at some time or other the crash must come, but everyone hopes that it may fall on the head of his neighbor after he himself has caught the shower of gold and placed it in safety.
Après moi le déluge! [After me, the flood] is the watchword of every capitalist and of every capitalist nation. Hence Capital is reckless of the health or length of life of the laborer, unless under compulsion from society…»
— Karl Marx
After Me, The Red Card
by taller ahuehuete
➥ 24 minutes | ▷ ❚❚ [audio version available]
A Tale of Tres Amigos
From bribery allegations during the bidding process to dreadful exploitation, the events in Qatar, FIFA 2022 World Cup’s host, highlighted the systemic contradictions of an occasion intended to observe teamwork and international sportsmanship. The 2022 World Cup earned the dubious distinction of being the most expensive edition to date, with estimated costs exceeding $220 billion. While Qatari officials dispute these figures, the magnitude of the expenditure remains staggering, raising inquiries regarding the allocation of public resources and the socio-economic priorities of the host nation.
The 2026 bidding was not exempt from controversies. Leading up to the selection of the host, Canada, Mexico, and the United States contemplated submitting separate applications. However, after recognizing the “potential benefits,” the three countries presented a unified proposal. On April 10, 2017, the official announcement marked the formation of the united joint bid, facing Morocco as a rival, a second favorite backdrop to host the 2026 event.
The combined pitch was selected on June 13, 2018, at the 68th FIFA Congress in Moscow, collecting 134 votes to Morocco's 65, marking the first time since the South Korea and Japan joint championship that the global tournament was granted to a plurality of nations. The decision turned Mexico into the first country to host or co-host the male World Cup three times, achieving the milestone after hosting in 1970 and 1986. The United States last held the championship in 1994, while this is Canada's first time.
Unsurprisingly, the formation of the joint bid by Canada, Mexico, and the United States aligns with the economic horizon established in the United States-Mexico-Canada Agreement (USMCA). The treaty, which replaced NAFTA on paper, governs the arterial economic relations linking the three capitalist states. In this sense, drawn like fleas to the scent of honey by the prospect of a profitable season, capital agents from the three nation-states celebrated the victory, assuring that hosting would stimulate economic growth, create job opportunities, and foster increased business cooperation.
Eager beaver, global capital cheered on the joint bid. It swished its wand and materialized various infrastructure proposals primarily concerning transportation and the construction of new state-of-the-art stadiums to meet FIFA requirements, promising efficient networks to facilitate the movement of teams, officials, fans, and the press through host cities. The promise cemented the commissioning of airports, highways, and public carrier systems to ensure “smooth international connectivity, minimizing travel times.”
Smooth international connectivity, however, will prove to be easier said than done in due time. While the USMCA does not directly address tourist mobility, the hosting countries will likely need to face the historic border relations and the disparities applied to each frontier to guarantee that, in the best-case scenario, there will be a level of smoothness as soft as a cactus. The World Cup will place a demand on the already militarized border and immigration monitors due to the expected influx of spectators moving through the host nations. Passport-holders from the so-called Global South already undergo harsh scrutiny during the visa application process, and discrimination, racism, and classism are not merely rampant but inherent to the highly policed institutions.
Let the Games Begin
Despite the enthusiasm from the private sector, several stadium schemes have faced delays. These include the modernization of the Azteca stadium in Mexico City, the Estadio Sostenible de Yucatán in Mérida (2.2bn-pesos, or USD$115mn), the Tigres stadium in Monterrey (US$320mn), and the eagerly awaited Cruz Azul arena.
The Estadio Azteca —designed by Mexican architects Pedro Ramírez and Rafael Mijares— served as the ground for legendary moments in soccer history, such as the 1970 Brazilian triumph led by Pelé, and Argentina's victory in 1986, by Diego Armando Maradona. On its 57th anniversary, observed on May 29, 2023, the arena received, amidst celebrations of its legacy, a growing chorus of dissent against recent water-extractive developments. In a powerful display of collective discontent, the demonstrators, — as documented by Animal Político1 — were driven by concerns of land speculation, lack of community consultation2, and potential displacement.
The site, financed by Altavista Sur Inmobiliaria and Futbol del Distrito Federal, is on land owned by Televisa3, a prominent multimedia conglomerate and one of the largest media companies in the Spanish-speaking world. Grupo Televisa, an operator of the Azteca stadium, unveiled the ambitious proposal in light of Mexico’s host status. The scheme included the construction of a commercial plaza with a seven-level parking lot and a hotel adjacent to the stadium. To proceed, developers required access to six water wells. The community quickly noticed the wells predominantly served the interests of the real estate firm rather than addressing the water scarcity experienced for years. Daily consumption, estimated at 567,731 liters, would be obtained, in large part, from the drilling of a well with a capacity of 2,592,000 liters in a neighboring property.
The Estadio Azteca project will impact approximately 13 neighboring communities, including Santa Úrsula Tlalpan, Pedregal de Santa Úrsula, and Huipulco4. The protesters' primary argument revolved around their rallying cry, "Water yes, mega-projects no," while warning about potential displacement, gentrification, and ongoing expropriation. The demand for real estate has intensified as the World Cup approaches, resulting in significant capital gains of up to 34% for properties near the stadium. This surge has had a tangible impact on the communities, especially in the districts of Coyoacán and Tlalpan, where rising property costs have started to reshape the local landscape.
In the meantime, a settlement filed in Manhattan’s federal court comes as Televisa faced allegations of bribery to secure broadcasting rights for the 2018, 2022, 2026, and 2030 World Cups. Grupo Televisa agreed to pay $95 million to settle claims made by investors regarding allegations and misleading shareholders about securing FIFA World Cup broadcast rights. The complaint claimed that Televisa collaborated with Brazilian media group Grupo Globo and Argentinian agency Torneos y Competencias to pay bribes totaling $15 million to the late Julio Grondona, a prominent FIFA executive.
Juegos de Pelota
In the case of northern Mexico — and while rejoicing on his victory to lure Tesla to his state — Nuevo León’s governor Samuel García stated he is awaiting a land permit to initiate the construction of the Tigres stadium in Monterrey. The site, valued at $320 million, is a joint venture between real estate firm Juego de PeIota and architectural firm Populous5.
Three years prior, in September 2020, governor Mauricio Vila Dosal unveiled plans for the Sustainable Stadium of Yucatán, boasting a fully private investment of 2.2 billion pesos to be led by Juego de Pelota México, the same firm in charge of Nuevo León’s planned arena.
Headed by PortiIIo, with an expected completion date in spring 2023, the proposed stadium immediately encountered opposition from residents. The College of Architects of the Metropolitan Area of Mérida and other organizations joined the chorus of disapproval, citing concerns regarding the four-hectare plot, inadequate transportation planning, and non-compliance with existing municipal regulations.
Concerns regarding Esparza PortiIIo's financial insolvency and lack of experience in stadium construction fueled investigations conducted by Central 9, the Journalistic Investigation Unit of Grupo Megamedia. It came to light that Juego de PeIota Inc., which purported to hold its headquarters in New York, operated out of a rented coworking space in an office-sharing building. Moreover, its previous attempts at stadium construction in Monterrey and Verona failed to materialize6.
The offices were tracked to 14 Wall St. 20th Floor, New York, NY, a coworking and office rental space.
The company’s link to Delaware — a well-known tax haven in the United States and the home since age ten to American president Joe Brandon — immediately added to the suspicions. Delaware, an oasis for offshore companies, allows tax exemptions for non-resident foreign-owned firms as long as they do not operate within the state. While these must submit an annual report with the name and address of a board member and the identity of all directors, information concerning the shareholders is undisclosed, facilitating money laundering. The formation of a company in the Mid-Atlantic U.S. state does not require a minimum share capital, and it may operate with a single shareholder who can correspondingly occupy all executive positions, including president, secretary, and treasurer. Although founded in Delaware, the offices for Juego de Pelota Inc. list 14 Wall St 20th Floor, New York, NY, the aforementioned coworking spot.
According to El Diario de Yucatán7, Juego de PeIota Inc., city councilors in Verona stated to the local press that the proposal by Esparza PortiIIo and his enterprise, Nuova Arena di Verona, SRL., was a "phantom project" unable to deliver its promises. The same fate would follow in Yucatán.
In 2023, the Mexican State sold the land where the Yucatán Sustainable Stadium was planned to the federal government. The definitive sales agreement, announced by the Public Property Registry, stated that the sale contract transferred the land to Fonatur Tren Maya S.A. de C.V. The notice did not disclose the transaction amount.
Unofficial sources from Fonatur in Mérida confirmed that the site would be used for the headquarters of the Tren Maya, serving as the nerve center for the intercity railway.
First Time As A Tragedy
The rush to complete stadiums within tight deadlines increases the pressure and the exploitation of vulnerable migrant workers, who face dire conditions, inadequate pay, and restricted freedom. Amnesty International described these circumstances as "forced labor", while disturbing reports emerged revealing instances of workers in Qatar denied access to food and water, having their passports confiscated, and enduring delayed or unpaid wages. The Guardian estimated that up to 4,000 workers could perish due to the unsafe state of affairs.
To understand the implications of migrant labor, and its nexus to capital, it is instrumental to draw parallels with Qatar's management of major infrastructure projects. Comparably to the soccer venues, projects of this magnitude, such as the so-called Tren Maya represents more than just a railway; its implementation restructures the socio-economic fabric of the Yucatan Peninsula and adjacent regions. Its environmental and social consequences have been downplayed, and its implications for migration and human mobility remain largely absent from discussions.
Francisco Javier Gorostiza8, a railway specialist, emphasized that infrastructure projects tend to foster the influx of exploited and vulnerable migrant workers in a state of desperation, willing to conduct dangerous or strenuous tasks without the risk—for the capitalists—of remunerating or providing medical services in case of injuries, disease, or accidents. This phenomenon rhymes with the recent announcement made by Andrés Manuel López Obrador stating that Mexico would provide temporary work to emigrants for public works projects, including the so-called Tren Maya.
Differential citizenships seem key to both scenarios. The kafala, a sponsorship-based labor system prevalent in various countries in the Middle East, including Qatar and other Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) countries, is designed to regulate the sponsorship of migrant workers, primarily in sectors such as construction, domestic work, and hospitality. Under the kafala system9, a sponsor assumes responsibility for a migrant worker's visa, legal status, and lodging during their employment. The sponsor has significant control over the worker's mobility and time, which can lead to various forms of exploitation and abuse. Migrant workers are legally bound to a specific sponsor who acts as their guardian. The sponsor has the authority to determine the labor conditions, including wages, working hours, and living arrangements.
Although not relying on individual sponsorship per se, the bracero system, a historical guest worker program in the U.S., indicates that the issues observed in the past tragically persist. The program, implemented between 1942 and 1964 by the United States government in collaboration with the Mexican state, allowed Mexican laborers, known as braceros [arms], to enter the U.S. to partake in temporary agricultural labor contracts in response to labor shortages during World War II, as many Americans were serving in the military or engaged in war-related industries.
Critics pointed out that the contractual dynamics subjected braceros to long hours, dangerous work environments, and uncompensated wages. The binational agreement ended in 1964, largely due to mounting criticism and pressure from labor activists. Labor unions in the aftermath of World War II, aiming to improve the wages and working conditions of domestic farm workers, saw the presence of braceros as a major obstacle. Organizations such as the National Farm Laborers Union (NFLU) and the Agricultural Workers Organizing Committee (AWOC) targeted the program.
César Chávez, who later became a prominent figure in the United Farm Workers (UFW), took a stance against immigration, particularly concerning the use of Mexican and undocumented labor by agricultural growers. Chávez and Dolores Huerta, co-founder and president of the UFW, believed it undermined U.S. workers, making it difficult for Americans “to protest any violations of their rights without fear of being fired and replaced”.
More controversial occurrences associated with the UFW's stance on immigration are linked to its history. In 1969, Chávez and UFW members marched to the Mexican border to protest the use of «illegals» as strikebreakers. During this period the UFW reported undocumented individuals and those who refused to unionize to the Immigration and Naturalization Services.
Chávez asserted — without providing any proof — that the CIA was orchestrating a scheme to «import unauthorized immigrants» into the country to weaken his movement. He increasingly accused foreigners of being brought in as «scabs», and established the Illegals Campaign, with Liza Hirsch in charge, to track and deport this demographic. According to the labor leader, "If we can get the illegals out of California, we will win the strike overnight." When urged to stop referring to people who entered the nation-state without documentation as «illegals,» Chávez insisted that «a spade is a spade».
The labor activists circulated a memorandum among all UFW entities announcing the measure to remove the influx of their perceived adversaries from California. After tracking them down in their workplaces and residences, the union constituents informed their regional Immigration and Naturalization Service (INS) agents — colloquially known as La Migra — about their findings. The workers’ association provided to the State a list of addresses where they believed undocumented workers could be chased, with more than 300 workers reported in Arvin-Lamont, over 500 in Delano, and more than 1,200 in Porterville by mid-July. The Selma field office singlehandedly developed a notice of 2,641 workers delivered to the Fresno Border Patrol office by mid-September. However, the volunteers from the union complained that only 195 individuals were arrested and removed from the country despite their efforts.
In 1973, the UFW set up a designated «wet line» along the U.S.-Mexico border to prevent Mexican workers from entering the United States without bureaucratic clearance, maintaining they were purposefully undermining their unionization efforts. During one of these events, some UFW members physically attacked [undocumented] «strikebreakers» after attempts to dissuade them from crossing the border failed.
In 1979, Chávez criticized the U.S. Immigration and Naturalization Service for allegedly refusing to arrest Mexican workers. He voiced his concerns during a U.S. Senate committee hearing. Chávez was unable to admit he was punching down, employing a workerist rhetoric that was not extended to braceros, as they were unable to partake in the same bargaining process to share a larger slice of the cake. Joshua Clover and Nikhil Pal Singh10 observe that a particular analytical framework fails to provide valuable insights when flattening the diverse experiences of the working class. This scope homogenizes struggles by exclusively centering on a national and social history of wage labor, neglecting social relations that involve rightlessness, wagelessness, and extra-economic coercion.
“During the Bracero Program, the threat of returning a contractee to Mexico, if he did not meet the demands of the job without complaint, was usually enough for workers to conform to grower expectations. If a worker did not comply, caused a ruckus, or started making demands for better working conditions, he would face deportation”, stated Ronald L. Mize Jr. in his powerful investigation11. “Living with the fear of total control, violence did not have to be inflicted by the grower because workers were made well aware of the history of state agents — local law enforcement— who were recruited to do the dirty work of punishment. Collective action was not an option afforded to the Mexican worker pushed to the margins of existence. The power imbalance was often too great to begin seriously talking about leverage for the worker in negotiations,” he added.
By portraying braceros as their impediment toward obtaining a victory, by depicting “the dispossessed, the excluded, the wretched of the earth12” as oppressors, by recasting those regularly figured as beneath the working class as the enemy, an inversion of the power dynamics at play emerges. The proletarianization process, defined in orthodox circles as a shift from subsistence agriculture to waged labor, has proved to be definitionally inadequate13. It was not the lack of solidarity or class consciousness that prevented Mexican workers from conducting themselves as Chávez hoped. The continuous creation of a relative surplus population serves to maintain the control of capital over the law of supply and demand in the labor market. The creation of surplus value is assisted and reinforced by a social hierarchy and stratification within the proletariat, where certain individuals are deemed more disposable than others. After all, as Aaron Benanav eloquently noted, most informal workers do not earn wages in the conventional sense. Informal workers can be included among the proletariat only if the latter’s defining feature is taken to be not wage labor but rather the lack of access to land or other forms of property that forces people to seek work.
As noted by Mize, the wage schedule for braceros often changed daily. On labor-intensive days or when crops needed cleaning, the pay was lower and based on piece rates. Conversely, when pickings were good and the work was comparatively easier, the pay was based on hourly rates. This daily fluctuation in the wage schedule made it difficult for Braceros to predict their earnings accurately. Various deductions were made from their paychecks: the cost of non-occupational health insurance, board, transportation, food expenses, and other charges, such as a fee for blankets or twist ties used in packaging. Braceros frequently experienced discrimination, as evidenced by the presence of "no dogs or Mexicans" signs in several rural businesses14.
Additional subtractions, based on their nationality, were implemented: according to the binational agreement between the United States and Mexico, they were required to pay $3-$3.50 per month for health indemnification. The second deduction was related to a mandatory savings fund. As per the established international rules, 10% of the braceros' salary was deposited into a savings account held in Mexican National Banks. This aimed to ensure that a portion of the braceros' earnings was set aside and saved. Nevertheless, the amount would not be released until they fulfilled the conditions of their contract and had returned to Mexico.
The bourgeois-proletarian relations in the nineteenth-century Lancashire wool mills in England and the relations between grower-migrant laborers in post-war U.S. agriculture share characteristics. With a piece wage, a capitalist can take advantage of a worker to the utmost extent possible. After all, Marx noted: ‘‘the quality of labour [in the piece-wage system] controlled by the work itself, must be of good average quality if the piece-price is to be paid in full. Piece-wages become, from this point of view, the most fruitful source of reductions in wages, and of frauds committed by the capitalists.’’ Braceros' daily lives were so completely taken over that it was virtually impossible to openly protest while still expecting to be awarded a job. However, this is not an indication that there was no pushback. While there were widespread misconceptions about braceros being passive and unable to organize themselves, this was untrue in areas such as the Pacific Northwest, where strikes were common15.
The actions and behavior of the United Farm Workers (UFW) under the leadership of Cesar Chávez, as described by Epifanio Camacho — a former UFW member — highlight the controversial and xenophobic tactics employed by the unionized workers. By 1973, Chávez had established army tents along the border, with groups of men stationed in each tent. These individuals, including Chávez’s cousin Manuel Chávez, collaborated with immigration agents in apprehending unauthorized border crossers. County, state, and federal officials allowed the UFW to operate with impunity in the border region. There were no judicial limitations on the actions of the union's night patrol, and Mexican authorities did not protect those attempting to cross. If someone was caught by UFW union members, they were likely to experience violence, including being brutally beaten and robbed of their possessions16.
But it often rhymes
National borders, delineated by the state apparatus, set limits not solely on the geographies of nation-states. As exemplified throughout the trajectory of Chávez’s labor activism, these restrictions extend to certain forms of proletarian solidarity. While the UFW was quick to condemn the absence of camaraderie from undocumented laborers, the union members remained uncritically imperceptive of their own. When asked his position on the subject of ‘la union no está contra los ilegales [sic] si no trabajan donde hay huelga’ [“the union isn’t against illegals [sic] if they don’t work where there is a strike”], Chávez angrily explained: “We’re against illegals [sic] no matter where they work because if they are not breaking the strike they are taking our jobs17.”
In a letter dated April of 1870, Marx shared with Sigfrid Meyer and August Vogt observations on the parallels linking the attitude of the English towards the Irish worker and the "poor whites" toward black slaves of the United States. The similarities resonate with the xenophobic sentiment voiced by the American labor leader who, in the shape of a bronze bust, was prominently placed on the desk of the American president Joe Brandon in the early days of his administration:
“Ireland constantly sends her own surplus to the English labor market, and thus forces down wages and lowers the material and moral position of the English working class. And most important of all: every industrial and commercial center in England now possesses a working class divided into two hostile camps, English proletarians and Irish proletarians,” Marx asserted. “The ordinary English worker hates the Irish worker as a competitor who lowers his standard of life. In relation to the Irish worker, he regards himself as a member of the ruling nation, and consequently he becomes a tool of the English aristocrats and capitalists against Ireland, thus strengthening their domination over himself. He cherishes religious, social, and national prejudices against the Irish worker. His attitude toward him is much the same as that of the “poor whites” to the Negroes in the former slave states of the United States. The Irishman pays him back with interest in his own money. He sees in the English worker both the accomplice and the stupid tool of the English rulers in Ireland. This antagonism is artificially kept alive and intensified by the press, the pulpit, the comic papers, in short, by all the means at the disposal of the ruling classes. This antagonism is the secret of the impotence of the English working class, despite its organization. It is the secret by which the capitalist class maintains its power18” he added. This historic dynamic persists. Tragically, beyond the examples previously explored.
According to Michele Klein-Solomon, the regional director of the International Organization for Migration (IOM), Mexico faces significant challenges in addressing migration, including xenophobia, assaults against migrants, and limited access to services. These positions are typically held by those who self-identify as middle class, even if they do not truly belong to that group. A significant majority of Mexicans, approximately 79% of the population, perceive themselves as belonging to this stratum. Estimates from the World Bank observed that during a single year (from 2019 to 2020), the number of people classified as middle class in Mexico decreased by four million. 42% of Mexican households qualify as very poor or in a situation of extreme poverty, further emphasizing the discrepancy between self-perception and actual socioeconomic conditions19.
Similarly, a report20 underlined a viral video showing a volunteer requesting specific clothing donations for men — highlighting that there are already enough donations for women and children — as a target of alarming reactions. The remarks reflected xenophobic, classist, and racist attitudes, expressing negative views toward the migrant individuals and accusing them of being delinquents. An increasing surge of worry, voiced by segments of the Mexican public, stresses that expatriates may not only wish to pass through Mexico on their way to the United States but "stay, and possibly lead to overpopulation, unemployment, and crime." Several individuals concerned by the "migratory invasion" denounced the rhetoric against Mexicans in the United States that typified the Donald Trump administration. Máximo Jaramillo, the coordinator of Inequality Studies at Oxfam Mexico, explained that these negative reactions are often rooted in a meritocratic narrative. However, a contrasting response of support from poorer communities along the caravans’ route was noted.
Work in Progress
Pedro Américo Furtado de Oliveira, director of the International Labor Organization (ILO) Office for Mexico and Cuba, said that «many migrants have a misconception that the United States is the only viable option, unaware that there are other places where they can have a decent life… Mexico is also a destination, and it needs their labor». Simultaneously, López Obrador emphasized how Central Americans crossing through this territory could «support public works, such as the [so-called] Mayan Train, as well as the refinery, the Isthmus, all the works we have,» he explained.
The mega-projects, which AMLO turned into the flagship of his administration, have been surrounded by controversy, exacerbated by the role of the Armed Forces in their construction and management, in a strategy to silence resistance to the projects and thus «boosting the militarization of the country», as remarked by Arturo Cano to La Jornada. Cano noted that although López Obrador appears in need of the migrant labor force to conclude and fulfill his ambitiously promised deadlines, the president did not clarify the procedure migrant workers will have to follow to obtain a temporary work visa.
Meanwhile, Wilner Metelus, president of the Citizens' Committee in Defense of Naturalized and Afro-American People (CCDNAM) stressed the dire situation in the temporary camps where many Haitian individuals are ill. While residents of these lodgings face food and water shortages, they continue to assert a desire to stay in Mexico and ‘legitimize’ their status after they were unable to enter the United States.
For most Haitian migrants, “being in Mexico is an opportunity to work and save money to start a new life, or bring families to the country”. As of now, however, the situation is described as “difficult, with people, including pregnant women and children, sleeping on the streets”. Concurrently, and while stationed strategically near the offices of the Mexican Commission for Refugee Aid (Comar), most individuals await their pending appointments to evaluate their asylum applications and, if approved, obtain work permits.
Haitian citizens have filed the highest number of asylum applications this year, with nearly 18,860 cases submitted to the Mexican institution. Nonetheless, the International Rescue Committee (IRC) has highlighted that only 5% of cases are resolved positively.
Accumulation’s Penalty
In the Grundrisse, Karl Marx observed how "capital lays the burden on the shoulders of the state, or else, where the latter traditionally occupies a superior position, for to capital, the state still has the privilege and the will to compel the collectivity [to invest] a part of its revenue, not of its capital, in such works of public utility..." ("Fundamental Elements for the Critique of Political Economy", translation by Pedro Scaron). He inquired: “Suppose the value of the road is not realized. But it is built anyway because it is a necessary use value. [...] Whether it is built by corvée or through taxes is the same. But it is built only because it is a necessary use value for the commune. After all, the commune requires it at any price. [...]”. The communities might not desperately need state-of-the-art stadiums, but capital salivates at the thought.
After all, in “stock-jobbing swindle, everyone knows that some time or another the crash must come, but everyone hopes that it may fall on the head of his neighbor after he has caught the shower of gold and placed it in safety”. One would agree with Marx, “après moi le déluge21” might be “the watchword of every capitalist and every capitalist nation”, if we were not compelled to note that water scarcity is a significant issue in Mexico City, Nuevo León, Yucatán and the surrounding areas where these mega-projects are earmarked. And those stadiums are not going to build themselves, capital assures. And they must be built — come rain, shine, or drought.
