Was It Worth It?
The lights of the Esports World Cup in Riyadh have dimmed, and Saudi Arabia’s Team Falcons are being hailed as national heroes. But let’s not kid ourselves — this was never about esports. This was a grotesque PR stunt, a calculated move in Saudi Arabia’s relentless quest to launder its global image through the sheen of sports and entertainment. Let’s call it what it was — a high-stakes game of moral bankruptcy.
And who helped make this happen? Pepsi, Sony, Amazon, Axe, Nestle KitKat, LG, Mentos, Adidas, and Mastercard — all lined up to sponsor this farce. At the helm, Ralf Reichert, CEO of the Esports World Cup Foundation, shamelessly served as the face of this event — a modern-day Philippe Pétain, trading integrity for infamy.
Was it worth it?
Was it worth it when Mohammed bin Nasser al-Ghamdi, though spared the death penalty, remains imprisoned for the crime of expressing his opinions online? A retired teacher, he faces years behind bars for daring to tweet his thoughts — a stark reminder that in Saudi Arabia, freedom of expression is as imaginary as the hope for reform.
Was it worth it?
Was it worth it when Asaad bin Nasser al-Ghamdi, another educator, languishes in prison, his health deteriorating, because he dared to question Vision 2030? The same Vision 2030 that is supposed to be Saudi Arabia’s grand blueprint for the future — which includes esports. Apparently, that future doesn’t include those who think critically or dare to speak up.
Was it worth it?
Was it worth it when Manahel al-Otaibi, a fitness instructor and women’s rights activist, faces an 11-year sentence for supporting basic human rights? Her “crime” was advocating for the right to dress as she pleases and to stand up for other women. In a country that just hosted an international esports event where the personal freedoms of the attendees stand in stark contrast to those of Saudi citizens, she is behind bars for daring to believe in the very freedoms the rest of us take for granted.
Was it worth it?
Was it worth it when Abdullah al-Derazi and Jalal Labbad, sentenced to death as minors, face imminent execution, their confessions extracted through torture? While the world watched flashy graphics and celebrated high scores, these young men await the final, brutal consequence of a system that values control over justice.
Was it worth it?
These aren’t just names on a list; they are people whose lives, and those of their families, have been destroyed under the same regime that now wants to convince you it is all about progress and modernization. The celebration of Saudi Arabia’s esports achievements rings hollow when we consider the price paid by those who dare to demand basic human rights.
Was it worth it?
No. Not when the very values that esports is supposed to represent — freedom, inclusivity, and the spirit of fair competition — are trampled underfoot like discarded confetti. Participating in this spectacle wasn’t just a betrayal of these values; it was a willing, almost gleeful, collaboration in sportswashing a brutal regime.
Esports is supposed to be about more than just winning; it is supposed to stand for something — values like freedom, integrity, and inclusivity. But by lending our credibility to a regime that continues to oppress its own people, we have not just failed — we’ve betrayed those values. The glittering prizes and accolades mean nothing when they come at the cost of our integrity. It is time we demand more from our community and ourselves. We must refuse to be complicit in the sportswashing of oppression. The future of esports — and its soul — depend on it.
This isn’t just about a game; it is about the future of our community. And right now, that future looks as bleak as the desert surrounding Riyadh. We can do better. We must do better.
But this time, we didn’t. And that is a loss no trophy can redeem.