A short way down the Corniche, the promenade that runs along Doha Bay, stands a large maroon hourglass cased in a ring of steel. A plaque reveals it is the official countdown clock to the 2022 World Cup and, according to the plaque, the countdown clock “reminds us that every moment is a celebration of our dreams”.
It is no longer counting down to anything. It just shows the date and time. Its presence, long after the circus packed up and left town, suggests this is a clock many in Qatar would like to turn back.
You do not have to walk down to one of Doha’s more scenic spots to get that impression, though. It greets you as soon as you step off the plane and onto the shuttle bus still decorated in World Cup livery.
It is there at Stadium 974 — the one constructed from 974 shipping containers — which began to be dismantled before the quarter-finals had been played. Work is ongoing but it still does not look very dismantled.
And, when The Athletic visited in March, every other street was still decorated with flags, banners or billboards featuring mascot La’eeb and the 2022 World Cup’s still pervasive slogan: ‘Now is All’.
That seemingly random collection of words did not make much sense during the tournament and it makes even less sense now, six months on from Argentina’s incredible victory over France in the final on December 18, except to raise a question that feels increasingly relevant in Doha.
If now is all, what comes next?
The sale of alcohol may be limited in Qatar but the word ‘hangover’ is frequently heard when asking people how they felt the morning after the tournament before. “If 19 November was like Christmas Eve, then 19 December was one of the worst days of my life,” says one local.
Kenny D’Souza was one of the 20,000 volunteers on hand during the World Cup to help visiting fans, mainly working at Khalifa International Stadium. His last shift was the third-place play-off between Croatia and Morocco, on the tournament’s penultimate day.
“We had these volunteer passports that we had to have stamped at the end of every shift,” he says. “When I had that stamped, I’m like: ‘Everything is done now?’ What next?’ It was a sinking feeling. It was difficult, kind of emotional.”
Reem Al-Haddad is a young woman who stood in the bustling marketplace of Souq Waqif with her brother throughout the tournament, inviting visiting fans to ask her questions about Qatar as part of a storytelling program called GOALS.
“We knew that it was going to come to an end but we didn’t want to face the reality,” she says as she reminisces about staying up until 3am after watching Argentina parade the trophy down Lusail’s boulevard.
The sense of emptiness did not hit Al-Haddad immediately. There were still events taking place, still tourists milling around, but it gradually came to a stop. “A few days later, we truly felt the post-World Cup depression,” she says.
After spending an estimated, extraordinary $200billion (£162bn) to host the tournament, what did it all achieve? Al-Haddad believes the biggest change in Qatari society is that people are now more engaged with what is happening around them.
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“People saw all the fun that comes with events and the crowd of people. They started going to events that are happening in parks, museums, everywhere. I feel like the World Cup encouraged them to be more outgoing.”
Al-Haddad points to Qatar’s national sports day, which fell on February 14. Like December 18, Qatar’s national day and the date of the World Cup final, it was a public holiday.
“They had a huge event happening at one of the World Cup stadiums, Education City Stadium. There was a marathon and sports activities for females inside the stadium. That was a great one, to use the stadium for something like that,” she says.
The event was hosted by the Qatar Foundation, a non-profit organisation owned by the Qatari government and set up by the former Emir. The Qatar Foundation developed the Education City campus that is home to eight universities and the stadium Al-Haddad mentions.
Alexandra Chalat, the Qatar Foundation’s director of World Cup legacy, has made the development of women’s and girls’ sport a priority post-tournament and rather than suffering from a hangover, she feels “energised” by what was achieved.
“Considering my role, the party is definitely not over. It’s just beginning,” she says.
Chalat believes the momentum generated by the World Cup can help grow women’s and girls’ sport in Qatar and sees the creation of more women-only spaces as central to that aim. The event at Education City had doubled in size from the previous year.
“Everyone there, including the security (were women), which meant that girls could play uncovered if they typically cover. That really broke down a barrier,” she says, referencing that many Muslim women cover all but their face and hands in public. The intention is now to turn one of the eight World Cup stadiums into a home for women’s and girls’ sport.
“For the most part, a lot of it is just giving women and girls a place to play that is comfortable for them in their culture and in their way. Doing that more means you’re going to see more women and girls participate.”
Women in Qatar face many barriers, however. Rights are restricted by the guardianship system, which requires women to have permission from a man for some key life decisions, such as marriage. Restrictions also apply on aspects of work, study and reproductive healthcare.
Women’s rights are part of the much wider human rights concerns — taking in the treatment of migrant labour and the outlawing of homosexuality — that came under scrutiny both in the run-up to and during the tournament and continue today.
Al-Haddad says Qatar took that scrutiny as a positive, while also suggesting it was not always in good faith. “It reached a point where it felt like they just wanted to attack us, not because they wanted us to change for the better. We felt like it was more of a hate than helping us become better people.
“No country is perfect,” she adds. “We all grow at a different pace and we all have our own ladder of growth.”
She believes perceptions were changed among those who travelled to Qatar. “I’ve seen so many people who came here for the first time who really changed their perspective 180 degrees. I saw actual stories in front of my eyes of how it had changed them.”
Chalat agrees. “Those who came here and participated in the World Cup by either coming as a fan or going to all of the incredible events that were put on, I think a lot of them saw a different side of Qatar than they thought they would.”
It is a point you hear a lot when discussing the various concerns that surrounded the World Cup with some of those who live or work in Qatar: that people who came and saw the country for themselves left with a different perspective.
The thing about perspective is that it depends where you’re looking. And you do not have to look too hard to find examples of workers being treated poorly once the tournament ended.
One of the more high-profile labour disputes in Qatar since the World Cup has involved Stark Security, a firm that deployed security guards at a number of sites across the tournament, including some of the stadiums and FIFA’s main media centre.
Many Stark guards signed six-month contracts lasting until the end of February. They were paid 2,700 riyals per month (£590; $742) for seven days a week of work and were housed in company accommodation at Barwa Al Baraha, a migrant labour camp.
Once the World Cup was over — two and a half months before the end of their contracts in some cases — hundreds of guards received notice from Stark saying that their employment would be terminated early and they were to vacate the accommodation, effectively leaving them homeless.
Yet many of the guards refused to leave the accommodation and insisted upon payment for the full six months of their contract. Several workers we have spoken to even claim that, in response, the company stopped providing food to the accommodation and disconnected their wi-fi.
The dispute had been ongoing for a month when approximately 200 Stark guards hired buses and travelled into central Doha with the intention of raising their grievances with company management.
They claim the buses they were travelling on were stopped by employees representing the company in the West Bay area of Doha. Video footage obtained by The Athletic shows a man standing in the road and blocking the path of one bus.
The police were called and the workers were accused of holding a protest. Protesting is not illegal in Qatar but freedom of assembly is severely restricted. Those organising protests are required to obtain permission from the Ministry of Interior in advance and it is rarely granted.
Workers on the buses were escorted by police to a detention centre, where they were processed over the course of several days and then deported.
Human and labour rights organisation Equidem claim that as part of this process, many of these workers were told they would only receive wages for working in December which remained unpaid and be allowed to return to Qatar in future if they signed agreements. Whether they signed or not, the arrested workers were subsequently deported.
The Qatari government says the workers were deported because their visas required them to leave Qatar when their contracts ended. If they wished to seek new employment in Qatar, they would need their new employer to apply for a work visa to re-enter the country.
In a statement, Qatar’s International Media Office said: “In response to a protest by approximately 200 Stark Security employees, representatives from the relevant local bodies convened with the employees to address outstanding salary payments. A resolution was swiftly reached whereby the workers were remunerated in full for their services and their contracts were concluded in accordance with their specified terms.
“The workers were employed on temporary six-month contracts and all contractual requirements were fulfilled and respected.
“Qatar does not arrest or deport workers for seeking to resolve their employment disputes. The rights of all individuals working in Qatar are upheld and protected through the fair and just application of legal due process.
“Qatar has established several new channels for reporting grievances and workers are encouraged to speak up when they believe they have been wronged. The labour authorities investigate all complaints and take appropriate measures when a violation is recorded.
“Additionally, Qatar has taken extensive action to prevent illegal recruitment fees in labour-sending countries. Through the launch of Qatar Visa Centres (QVCs) — which have opened in a number of countries, including Pakistan — Qatar has created a unified visa system that protects the rights of workers by eliminating exploitative practices in their home countries.”
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“All of us in jail were very worried,” says Muhammad Tayyeeb Afridi, a former Stark security guard who was deported to Pakistan in January.
“We want to inform the whole world about Qatar and the FIFA World Cup. We want our rights, we want our money but they did not give it. They arrested us and deported us. We want our rights and also to tell the world how it is in Qatar.”
“We did a great job for the company but what they did to us is unbelievable,” says Abid Ali Khan, another Stark security guard repatriated to Pakistan. “They behaved very badly with us.”
Three of the guards who were organising their fellow workers in the dispute with Stark — Shakir Ullah and Zafar Iqbal from Pakistan, and Tanveer Hussain from India — are believed to still be in jail in Qatar.
A meeting between a group of Stark guards and Pakistan’s minister for overseas Pakistanis, organised by Equidem, is planned to highlight the plight of the three colleagues who are yet to return home, although political unrest in the country has delayed talks. “We are worried and demand FIFA and (the) Qatari government to release them,” says Afridi.
Many of the workers who were deported have returned to their home countries with substantial debts to pay, having arrived in Qatar on expensive ‘freelance visas’ which often required them to pay more than 10,000 riyals (£2,180; $2,750). Some paid as much as 40,000 riyals (£8,735; $10,990).
In addition, workers are charged renewal fees of up to 3,500 riyals (£765; $960) every few years to remain in the country. These payments are not made to companies providing their employment — Stark, in the case of the security guards — but to third parties providing a visa.
To afford the visa, many Stark workers took on debt or sold valuable possessions. “No one had money,” says Khan, who took out a loan to pay for his visa. “Some sold land, some sold jewellery, some sold their homes.”
“Stark Security is just one example of many companies who treat their workers as pawns, no more than pieces that can be thrown away once the game is over,” says Jason Nemerovski, a researcher at Equidem. “Every day Equidem is speaking with workers who are owed wages and describe the dehumanising nature of their work for the FIFA World Cup 2022.”
FIFA was approached for comment but referred The Athletic to the Qatari government. In April, world football’s governing body said: “We understand that (Stark Security) has been a host country contractor during the FIFA World Cup and that some of the issues raised in the report are currently being investigated by competent authorities in Qatar.
“FIFA is following up closely on such investigations in contact with the ILO (International Labour Organization) and other counterparts in Qatar and seeks to facilitate discussions at the host country level to explore available options for remedy.”
The ILO, the United Nations’ work agency, passed on reports of the dispute to the Qatari Ministry of Labour but said they do not comment on individual cases.
Stark Security, their parent company Estithmar Holding and the Supreme Committee for Delivery and Legacy were approached for comment but did not respond.
Then there are the World Cup workers who remain in Qatar. A worker we will call Daniel to protect his safety accepted a job with a different security company and was assigned to work at a hotel during the tournament.
When he arrived in Qatar, “in search of greener pastures”, he was initially excited to be moving to a country that would be hosting the World Cup. Like many of his fellow workers, he was forced to pay a recruitment fee, at a personal cost of $1,100 (£872).
To pay that back in full, Daniel would have to work approximately two-and-a-half months on his total salary of 1,670 Qatari riyals (£364; $459). His shifts were 12 hours a day with no days off permitted. Only 1,000 riyals was classed as basic salary with a 300 riyal allowance for food. The rest was overtime, paid at a reduced rate.
Daniel was initially housed in accommodation provided by his company on the outskirts of Doha. Conditions were cramped and overcrowded, with sometimes as many as 14 men sleeping in one room, and the provisions were basic. There was transportation to work and a laundry service, although that only covered his uniform.
As the tournament drew closer, Daniel’s situation and that of other workers marginally improved. During the summer last year, he was moved into government-provided accommodation, where many other World Cup workers were housed.
The conditions were notably better than what he and his colleagues were used to. It was cleaner, food was provided at no extra cost, the laundry service allowed you to wash more than just your uniform and he had four days off a month, albeit with a reduced salary of 1,570 riyals (£342; $431).
He also felt as though he could speak up should he need to. “They used to listen to us when we’d complain about anything. At least we had an ear,” he says. “We were being heard.”
Yet shortly after the tournament ended, without any notice, he and his fellow workers were moved out and put back into accommodation with much worse conditions, sleeping between six and eight people in a room.
Then, to their surprise, they were quickly told to return to their World Cup accommodation. An inspection was being carried out by the company which owned the hotel he worked at, a client of the security firm that employed him. “They wanted to see where we stayed so they could renew the contract,” he says.
Once that inspection was over, the workers were out again, eventually returning to the same accommodation they had been housed in months before the tournament started. “It’s dirty, it’s not spacious,” he says. “If one guy in our room was to get a respiratory problem, all of us would be affected. It would circulate very fast.”
Daniel says, at the time of the inspection, some of his fellow workers complained about being moved out just days earlier. He claims they subsequently had their employment terminated and were repatriated with two days’ notice.
“In two days, you can’t even go to the government and complain. The tickets were already booked and they had to go immediately. They were not even paid their salaries.”
Despite the much-trumpeted strengthening of migrant labour laws in Qatar, Daniel feels that even if the merits of any complaint he made were taken seriously, it would still result in the termination of his employment.
“There’s a guy who complained about his broken bed and the next day he was sent home,” he says. “Right now, you have to abide by whatever they do.
“At that period of time, during the World Cup, I guess the situation of workers had improved. I’d say it was comfortable, but eight months before the World Cup and immediately after the World Cup, I wouldn’t say it’s so good.”
During the tournament, workers were given a card with a number to call should they have any problems or concerns, but as Daniel points out, there was relatively little to complain about then. “Life was good at that time. Life was OK.”
Now that he has more cause to pick up a phone and dial that number, he does not feel able to. “That card, I’m not sure if I can still use it. If I complain, it won’t be a help. I’ll be risking my job.”
Daniel’s story only adds to a growing sense that once the World Cup left Qatar, so did a pretence to reform that was never especially convincing.
Michael Page, deputy Middle East director at Human Rights Watch, said last week of the “misleading claims” made in relation to migrant workers’ rights, which he said were “shamelessly used to deflect criticism when the international spotlight was on Qatar”. Even FIFA, it would appear, has had its doubts.
In March, at the governing body’s annual congress and first big get-together since the World Cup, FIFA acknowledged there are “mixed views” on whether sufficient progress has been achieved on migrant labour rights in Qatar as a result of the tournament.
After coming under pressure from international trade unions, human rights groups and the Norwegian Football Association in the build-up to the congress, FIFA announced that it was committed to assessing and producing a public report on the human rights legacy of the 2022 World Cup.
Michael Llamas, chairperson of FIFA’s subcommittee on human rights and social responsibility, said there are “complex and challenging questions here which deserve further study”, promising to build on information provided by FIFA and involve external experts.
The same “complex and challenging questions” were there before the tournament, though, and before Qatar were named hosts.
They will still be there for whatever comes next in Qatar’s subsequent great sporting project — whether that is Sheikh Jassim bin Hamad al-Thani’s potential takeover of Manchester United or maybe even hosting an Olympics.
But perhaps even that would not quite live up to this first big, nation-building jamboree.
For those in Qatar who were able to enjoy the World Cup, it was a month-long celebration with the eyes of the world upon them.
For others, at best, it was a steady income, a slightly comfier bed or a much-needed day off every now and then — brief, temporary and even then only scant respite, to be lost once the world stopped watching.
(Top photo: Clive Brunskill/Getty Images)