On Tuesday, 17 February 2026, Vinicius Jr said “racists are cowards” after he was allegedly abused during Real Madrid’s Champions League play-off first leg against Benfica, which was held up for 11 minutes over reported racist remarks.

Football pundit Kate Scott in her statement did not merely deliver a broadcast reflection; she issued a moral indictment of football’s governing culture, exposing, with clarity and restraint, how racism in the sport is sustained not only by perpetrators on the pitch, but by institutions and influential figures who enable, relativise, or trivialise it.

At its core, her argument is simple and devastating; racism in football persists because it is still negotiable. It is debated, contextualised, excused, and softened, rarely confronted with the full moral force it deserves.

Both FIFA and UEFA stand exposed by this episode, not as passive observers, but as long-term architects of institutional complacency.

For decades, these bodies have promoted “zero tolerance” rhetorically while practising minimal enforcement structurally. Their disciplinary regimes remain timid, inconsistent, and largely symbolic; token fines that clubs easily absorb, partial stadium closures that inconvenience fans, not offenders, investigations that drag on until public outrage fades, and policies that emphasise “process” over justice

This is not neutrality, it is complicity.

When players such as Vinícius Júnior and Kylian Mbappé report repeated racial abuse, they are not presenting a “dispute.” They are submitting testimony from the frontlines of discrimination. The fact that such claims are routinely subjected to excessive scepticism reveals an institutional bias toward preserving comfort rather than confronting injustice.

More damning still is the leadership structure of global football. The persistent lack of Black and minority representation in executive decision-making is not accidental, it is systemic. When those who suffer racism are excluded from the rooms where policy is made, protection becomes optional.

FIFA and UEFA cannot continue to posture as moral authorities while presiding over governance systems that fail the most vulnerable participants in the game.

They are not failing for lack of knowledge, they are failing for lack of courage.

The intervention of José Mourinho represents a different, but equally corrosive, failure; the moral recklessness of influence.

By reframing the incident around “provocation,” Mourinho effectively shifted responsibility away from alleged racist behaviour and onto the victim. This is a classic tactic of injustice systems; when confronted with wrongdoing, interrogate the victim’s conduct instead of the perpetrator’s.

The implication, subtle but unmistakable, was that Vinícius Jr.’s style, personality, or competitiveness somehow invited abuse.

This is ethically indefensible.

No behaviour on a football pitch justifies racial humiliation. None, not celebration, not confidence, not defiance, and certainly not excellence.

When a figure of Mourinho’s stature promotes such framing, he does more than express a personal opinion. He legitimises prejudice for millions of fans, players, and commentators. He tells them: “Racism is understandable, if the target is irritating enough.”

That narrative is not merely wrong, it is dangerous.

It teaches perpetrators that their actions are contextual, that their suffering is conditional and teaches institutions that accountability is negotiable.

Kate Scott’s statement exposes one of football’s most enduring injustices; the demand that Black players absorb abuse silently and respond only with performance.

“Rise above it.”
“Let your football do the talking.”
“Don’t be distracted.”

These phrases are not encouragement. They are instruments of suppression.

They relocate responsibility from institutions to individuals, normalise suffering as part of professionalism, and convert resilience into obligation.

From Cyril Regis to John Barnes to today’s stars, Black players have been expected to be simultaneously exceptional and silent. Their success is celebrated; their pain is managed.

This is not progress. It is exploitation refined.

Football markets itself as the world’s most inclusive cultural platform. Champions League broadcasts showcase global diversity. Anti-racism banners are unfurled. Campaign slogans circulate.

Yet when racism erupts in real time, the response is procedural, legalistic, and emotionally sterile.

The contradiction is stark; diversity is profitable while justice is inconvenient.
So diversity is advertised but justice is postponed.

Until FIFA and UEFA are willing to impose penalties that genuinely threaten reputations, revenues, and careers, their campaigns will remain performative.

To FIFA and UEFA:
Your failure is structural. You have had decades, resources, and authority. What you lack is moral resolve. Until racism carries consequences comparable to financial misconduct or match-fixing, you are not serious about eradicating it. You are managing it.

To José Mourinho:
Your words carry weight. With that weight comes responsibility. By questioning the victim rather than condemning the abuse, you aligned yourself, consciously or not, with the machinery of discrimination. Great managers are judged not only by trophies, but by their ethical leadership. On this occasion, you failed that test.

To Football Itself:
You cannot continue to celebrate global belonging while tolerating racial exclusion. You cannot preach unity while permitting humiliation. You cannot call yourself “the world’s game” while treating some players as more disposable than others.

In conclusion, Kate Scott’s closing assertion is the most important truth in her statement; football’s diversity is not an accessory, it is its essence.

The game belongs to Lagos and London, São Paulo and Paris, Accra and Amsterdam. Its beauty lies in that shared belonging.

Anyone, administrator, coach, fan, or official, who diminishes that belonging through racism, relativism, or silence is betraying the sport itself.

This moment demands more than statements.
More than investigations.
More than symbolic gestures.

It demands institutional courage.

Until FIFA, UEFA, and football’s most powerful figures embrace that courage, racism will remain not an aberration, but a tolerated feature of the game.

Team Naya welcomes Charles Kwaghtongo.

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