From Santiago to Gaza, the unlikely alliance that proves football can carry a people.
by Lochlann de Brún“We don’t play just to win; we play to exist.”
Those were the words spoken by Ihab Abu Jazar, head coach of the Palestinian national football team, in the lead-up to an exhibition match in Bilbao against the Basque Country at the end of last year. The Palestinian team did not win in the packed-out San Mamés stadium, but its players, the opposing team and the 50,000 whose voices rose in solidarity with Palestine did affirm Abu Jazar’s words. Collectively, they expressed the proud existence of the Palestinian people, whom the Israeli government is so desperate to erase. On the pitch that night, football gave expression to struggle, grief, recognition and solidarity where politics has failed to do so. While the powerful figures that govern the world’s most adored sport dish out ‘peace awards’ to the powerful figures that have facilitated the genocide in Gaza, many ordinary people have turned to football as a means of standing up against the ongoing slaughter. Throughout Israel’s genocide in Gaza, symbols of Palestinian solidarity, like the match in Bilbao, have become one of the most important ways for people to express dissent against their own governments. The world has had to watch on as the death toll on the Gaza Strip exceeds 70,000, all whilst their own elected officials have either failed to act or have even actively aided in the daily slaughter of civilians. These symbols have become a means of expression that has allowed people to keep the genocide at the forefront of public consciousness, and football - with its badges, scarves, flags and enormous global stage - presents the perfect arena for that expression.
Throughout the genocide, one particular football shirt has stood out as one of the most recognisable symbols of Palestinian solidarity. It can be seen in footage of protests all over the world: climbing the Place de la République in Paris, crossing Westminster Bridge in London, or blockading Grand Central Terminal in New York. It can be seen worn casually in Ireland, on the streets of Belfast, Dublin and Cork. Sometimes (maybe more often in Ireland) the shirt appears as a curious amalgamation of Celtic FC and Palestine; the Glasgow club’s iconic green horizontal stripes are paired with the distinctive fishnet pattern of the keffiyeh, and it features the four-leafed clover crest that honours Celtic’s deep Irish roots. I had assumed that this was a football club based in Palestine, and maybe a Celtic fan with an eye for design had made a clever mashup available online. It was only several months later that I, by something of an accident, found myself at one of the club's matches. The stadium, however, was not in Bethlehem or in Ramallah, 8000 miles away from Palestine, in the Chilean capital of Santiago.
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After a quick online search for ‘Palestine Celtic shirt’ I discovered that the jersey I had been seeing everywhere - with its Palestinian colours and emblems and its map of historical Palestine - was in fact Chilean. The shirt belongs to the Santiago-based football club, Club Deportivo Palestino, and its nod to Celtic was its third kit from 2024. As it happened, I was about to leave Ireland on an extended trip across South America. I decided that if I were to find myself in the Chilean capital, I would make it my mission to go to a Palestino match and find out more about this unusual connection between the two countries, so far apart both culturally and geographically. I also had to find out what the story was with the Celtic shirt. Without much surprise, midway through my travels, I did find myself in Santiago.
The South American metropolis lies in the centre of Neruda’s ‘thin country’, flanked by the towering Andes. A stroll down some of the central barrios reveals the distinctive, edgy and radical character of the city that can be seen in the rows of buildings adorned with tapestries of street art and political slogans. While some cities wear their heart on their sleeves, Santiago seems to wear it on its walls. It didn’t take long to get a glimpse of the steadfast Chilean support for Palestine; the vibrant Bellavista quarter had large murals in tribute to the children of Gaza and to Palestinian liberation. The barrio of Patranato was even more revealing. The streets had an array of Arabic cafes and clothes shops, and every second lamppost was flying a Palestinian flag. Some of the flags were fresh and new, while others, faded in colour, seemed to have been flying for years.
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I went to Palestino’s stadium, the Estadio Municipal de La Cisterna, to watch the club play Club Universidad de Chile. Above the main stand of the grounds, the Chilean flag flew proudly side by side proudly with the flag of Palestine. Amongst the passionate home fans in the stand were Palestino diehards in traditional Arabic thawbs and headdresses wearing the Celtic tribute shirt, looking a bit like a Unionist politician’s worst nightmare. Even the food stalls had swapped the classic Chilean completo hotdogs for shawarma and falafel. The Cisterna stadium felt like a living monument to the unlikely entanglement of these two cultures. After the match, I reached out to members of the Palestinian community to find out how it came to be that a football club in Chile had become an international symbol for Palestinian identity and resistance. I met with Valeria Apara Hizmeri (34), Palestino fan and social media manager of the Comunidad Palestina de Chile in the social sports club. Valeria’s great-grandfather had come to Chile from Palestine, and she can trace her family roots back to Bayt Jala, Bethlehem and Ein Karem, which became an Israeli settlement after the Nakba of 1948. The club itself was born of the waves of immigration to Chile that her own family was part of, and which led to Chile today having the largest Palestinian community outside of the Arab world. The South American country is home to an estimated 500,000 of Palestinian descent, with many residing in Santiago.
CD Palestino playing at Estadio Municipal de La Cisterna in Santiago (from CD Palestino)
“The immigration started before 1900, a little before that the first family started to come here. And then in 1910 a lot of people came. Initially, the people that came were from Bayt Jala, Bethlehem and Beit Sahour. There were Christian families in that time, Palestine was dominated by the Ottoman Empire, and the First World War had begun. The Ottomans said to the Christian families that they have to give their child to go to fight for Turkey and many families were afraid, and they didn't want to, and so they started to move to other countries.”
“One of the common routes was starting in the port of Haifa [now part of the state of Israel] and they went to Europe, to Napoli or Marseilles, for example. And then they went straight to Buenos Aires. They caught the train to Mendoza, which is a city near Santiago, but on the other side of the Andes, and they came by donkey to Santiago, over the Andes. Then they started to go to different parts of Chile, to the north of Chile, to the south, while others stayed in Santiago. And that's why, because they wanted to look for more opportunities to work. They used to work in textiles, in clothes, and that was not very big here in Chile. So they started to buy things like materials and go to the south to sell them. So the Palestinian people always looked for a way to continue their way of living.”
Explaining the complex multi-stop journey of the Palestinians' arrival in Chile, crossing continents and mountain ranges, Valeria remembers a joke from her father: “My father has a joke - he says that the price of the ship was the same if you went to the first stop or to the last stop, and because they were Arabs, they wanted to take advantage of the ticket and go to the last…this is a joke, okay? But the truth is, Chile was a land with more opportunities, and was not so developed. It was a starting country. Palestinian people are also very close to their families. So when they came here, it started with the first one, and then they brought another one, and then they brought the fathers, and then they brought their grandfathers. So I think that's why the community became concentrated here in Chile.”
Throughout the genocide, one particular football shirt has stood out as one of the most recognisable symbols of Palestinian solidarity. It can be seen in footage of protests all over the world: climbing the Place de la République in Paris, crossing Westminster Bridge in London, or blockading Grand Central Terminal in New York. It can be seen worn casually in Ireland, on the streets of Belfast, Dublin and Cork. Sometimes (maybe more often in Ireland) the shirt appears as a curious amalgamation of Celtic FC and Palestine; the Glasgow club’s iconic green horizontal stripes are paired with the distinctive fishnet pattern of the keffiyeh, and it features the four-leafed clover crest that honours Celtic’s deep Irish roots. I had assumed that this was a football club based in Palestine, and maybe a Celtic fan with an eye for design had made a clever mashup available online. It was only several months later that I, by something of an accident, found myself at one of the club's matches. The stadium, however, was not in Bethlehem or in Ramallah, 8000 miles away from Palestine, in the Chilean capital of Santiago.
After a quick online search for ‘Palestine Celtic shirt’ I discovered that the jersey I had been seeing everywhere - with its Palestinian colours and emblems and its map of historical Palestine - was in fact Chilean. The shirt belongs to the Santiago-based football club, Club Deportivo Palestino, and its nod to Celtic was its third kit from 2024. As it happened, I was about to leave Ireland on an extended trip across South America. I decided that if I were to find myself in the Chilean capital, I would make it my mission to go to a Palestino match and find out more about this unusual connection between the two countries, so far apart both culturally and geographically. I also had to find out what the story was with the Celtic shirt. Without much surprise, midway through my travels, I did find myself in Santiago.
The South American metropolis lies in the centre of Neruda’s ‘thin country’, flanked by the towering Andes. A stroll down some of the central barrios reveals the distinctive, edgy and radical character of the city that can be seen in the rows of buildings adorned with tapestries of street art and political slogans. While some cities wear their heart on their sleeves, Santiago seems to wear it on its walls. It didn’t take long to get a glimpse of the steadfast Chilean support for Palestine; the vibrant Bellavista quarter had large murals in tribute to the children of Gaza and to Palestinian liberation. The barrio of Patranato was even more revealing. The streets had an array of Arabic cafes and clothes shops, and every second lamppost was flying a Palestinian flag. Some of the flags were fresh and new, while others, faded in colour, seemed to have been flying for years.
I went to Palestino’s stadium, the Estadio Municipal de La Cisterna, to watch the club play Club Universidad de Chile. Above the main stand of the grounds, the Chilean flag flew proudly side by side proudly with the flag of Palestine. Amongst the passionate home fans in the stand were Palestino diehards in traditional Arabic thawbs and headdresses wearing the Celtic tribute shirt, looking a bit like a Unionist politician’s worst nightmare. Even the food stalls had swapped the classic Chilean completo hotdogs for shawarma and falafel. The Cisterna stadium felt like a living monument to the unlikely entanglement of these two cultures. After the match, I reached out to members of the Palestinian community to find out how it came to be that a football club in Chile had become an international symbol for Palestinian identity and resistance. I met with Valeria Apara Hizmeri (34), Palestino fan and social media manager of the Comunidad Palestina de Chile in the social sports club. Valeria’s great-grandfather had come to Chile from Palestine, and she can trace her family roots back to Bayt Jala, Bethlehem and Ein Karem, which became an Israeli settlement after the Nakba of 1948. The club itself was born of the waves of immigration to Chile that her own family was part of, and which led to Chile today having the largest Palestinian community outside of the Arab world. The South American country is home to an estimated 500,000 of Palestinian descent, with many residing in Santiago.
“The immigration started before 1900, a little before that the first family started to come here. And then in 1910 a lot of people came. Initially, the people that came were from Bayt Jala, Bethlehem and Beit Sahour. There were Christian families in that time, Palestine was dominated by the Ottoman Empire, and the First World War had begun. The Ottomans said to the Christian families that they have to give their child to go to fight for Turkey and many families were afraid, and they didn't want to, and so they started to move to other countries.”
“One of the common routes was starting in the port of Haifa [now part of the state of Israel] and they went to Europe, to Napoli or Marseilles, for example. And then they went straight to Buenos Aires. They caught the train to Mendoza, which is a city near Santiago, but on the other side of the Andes, and they came by donkey to Santiago, over the Andes. Then they started to go to different parts of Chile, to the north of Chile, to the south, while others stayed in Santiago. And that's why, because they wanted to look for more opportunities to work. They used to work in textiles, in clothes, and that was not very big here in Chile. So they started to buy things like materials and go to the south to sell them. So the Palestinian people always looked for a way to continue their way of living.”
Explaining the complex multi-stop journey of the Palestinians' arrival in Chile, crossing continents and mountain ranges, Valeria remembers a joke from her father: “My father has a joke - he says that the price of the ship was the same if you went to the first stop or to the last stop, and because they were Arabs, they wanted to take advantage of the ticket and go to the last…this is a joke, okay? But the truth is, Chile was a land with more opportunities, and was not so developed. It was a starting country. Palestinian people are also very close to their families. So when they came here, it started with the first one, and then they brought another one, and then they brought the fathers, and then they brought their grandfathers. So I think that's why the community became concentrated here in Chile.”