Sport for Development and Peace Must Stop Whispering While the World Shouts Violence...

We are living through a time when the headlines feel like a rolling emergency. Attacks on mosques. Tensions on our streets. A sickening rise in serious youth violence. Racism in football morphing and spreading across Europe. And in the background, major sporting institutions pressing ahead with business-as-usual, as if the scale of the social fracture is someone else’s problem.

In that context, I want to pose a direct question: where is Sport for Development and Peace when we need it most?

For decades, we have said sport can be a “tool for good.” We have built a language of hope around it. We have written strategies, launched campaigns, hosted conferences, and filled reports with the right words. But right now - when communities are fearful, when young people are being harmed and harming others, when hate is being organised and amplified—too often sport for development is not felt on the ground. It is talked about as an aspiration, not delivered as an infrastructure.

That isn’t a criticism of sport itself. It is a challenge to sport’s leadership.

Take the global sporting calendar. With the Winter Olympics Flame now extinguished and with the Winter Paralympics Flame about to be lit, for millions it is a spectacular display of excellence. But for many others - particularly those living in urban hardship, in communities facing racism, in places where violence is normalised - the event is distant, unrepresentative, even indifferent. You don’t need to dislike sport to acknowledge this truth: elite sport can become a mirror reflecting privilege back at itself. If sport claims universality, it must look like humanity. It must speak to the world as it is, not the world as the fortunate few experience it.

Football, too, is at a crossroads. It cannot speak of unity while failing to confront racism with the seriousness it demands. It cannot sell hope in glossy video packages while young people are radicalised in digital spaces, groomed into criminality, or left to spiral without support. Sport cannot be the “willing” partner in public messaging while refusing to be the accountable partner in public action.

And then there is geopolitics. We now have major tournaments being discussed in nations where violence is not theoretical. It is daily. Yet the institutional response is often a shrug: “the event will go ahead.” Operationally, that may be true. Morally, it is inadequate. When cartel violence signals who holds power in certain territories, or when border politics is weaponised to define who belongs, sport does not get to pretend it is outside the storm

Because sport is not neutral. It is influential. It is cultural power. It shapes identity, belonging, and aspiration. That is precisely why it carries responsibility. So what must change?

First, we must stop treating sport for development as a side project - a charitable add-on attached to the “real” business of sport. If we truly believe sport can build safer communities, then safeguarding, wellbeing, inclusion and progression pathways must be embedded into the core planning of every major event, every federation strategy, every sponsorship conversation.

Second, we must move from slogans to systems. When teenagers commit horrific violence against other teenagers, that is not only a criminal justice issue - it is a prevention failure. It is a gap in early engagement, mentorship, belonging, and structured opportunity. If we know what the protective factors are - trusted adults, positive peer groups, meaningful activity, pathways into education and work - then the question becomes: why are we not funding those protective factors at scale?

Third, we must build community infrastructure, not short-term activations. A tournament comes and goes. A glossy campaign fades. But a Community Campus - rooted in schools, clubs, youth services, faith partners and local leadership - can remain. It can provide a place for young people to be seen, to be coached, to be challenged, to be held accountable, to be supported. It can create a pipeline of “Social Coaches” - mentors who combine sporting excellence with safeguarding competence, cultural intelligence and leadership training.

This is the difference between inspiration and transformation.

Finally, global leadership must convene, not posture. The Dakar 2026 Youth Olympic Games should not be approached as an event to be delivered and boxed off. It must be a convening moment - bringing together the IOC, the Dakar Organising Committee, the Mayor of Dakar and the Senegalese government in a coordinated plan that turns sport into youth policy: employment pathways, digital literacy, safeguarding structures, community engagement, and measurable legacy outcomes. And yes, this requires hard decisions. It requires shared ownership across institutions that too often operate in silos. It requires investment, not just endorsement. It requires the courage to name the issues - racism, hate, violence, exclusion - and to treat them as core sporting issues, not inconvenient externalities.

Because the world is entering what can only be described as a perfect storm: social media accelerates grievance; inequality hardens resentment; violence becomes normalised; and young people, too often, are left to navigate it alone. If sport is truly the universal language it claims to be, then now is the time for sport to speak clearly - with actions.

Not with another panel discussion. Not with another hashtag. Not with another glossy legacy promise that dissolves once the final whistle blows. But with a serious, integrated, accountable commitment to prevention - delivered where it matters most: in communities, in schools, in clubs, in youth spaces, and in the daily lives of young people who are currently being failed by the systems designed to protect them.

Sport for Development and Peace is not dead. But it is at risk - of becoming irrelevant - unless it meets the moment. The world is not waiting for sport to entertain it.

The world is waiting for sport to lead.