Racist abuse directed at England players during the 2026 World Cup was not just visible—it was systematically amplified by social media algorithms designed to prioritise content that provokes strong emotional reactions, according to a new investigation by campaign group Hope Not Hate. The findings challenge the assumption that online abuse is an inevitable byproduct of digital spaces, instead exposing how profit-driven recommendation systems actively push toxic content into mainstream feeds.
How algorithms turned abuse into visibility
Hope Not Hate’s analysis of over 300,000 posts on X (formerly Twitter) during the tournament identified more than 5,500 explicitly racist messages targeting England players. The group argues that X’s recommender algorithm prioritised these posts because they provoked strong emotional reactions—anger, disgust, or outrage—which keep users engaged longer and, crucially, drive advertising revenue. The result was that racist content did not remain confined to the fringes of the platform; it was surfaced in recommendation feeds, making it visible to millions of users who had not actively sought it out.
Patrik Hermansson, senior researcher at Hope Not Hate, described the platform’s approach as a deliberate choice rather than an unavoidable consequence of scale. “X is actually benefiting from this hate,” he told BBC Sport. “It drives engagement on its platform and it effectively uses its algorithm to elevate and show it to more of its users. They show up in the recommendation feed—they are not obscure corners of this website, they are front and centre.” The implication is clear: the amplification of racist abuse is not an oversight but a feature of how the platform operates.
Who bore the brunt of the abuse
The report highlights a disturbing pattern in the targeting of England players. Jude Bellingham was the most frequently abused player, with 423 explicitly racist posts recorded in the dataset. Bukayo Saka and Kobbie Mainoo faced the highest proportion of racist posts relative to their total mentions, with Saka receiving 287 racist posts out of 1,142 total mentions (25.1%) and Mainoo receiving 198 out of 987 (20.1%). Beyond racial slurs, Djed Spence—who converted to Islam in recent years—was subjected to a separate wave of anti-Muslim abuse, with researchers identifying 89 posts containing Islamophobic content in replies to his posts alone.
The study also examined how abuse clustered around high-profile posts, with researchers tracking the replies to individual tweets from England players during and after matches. This granular approach reveals how algorithmic amplification can transform isolated incidents of hate into sustained campaigns of intimidation, exposing players to relentless streams of discriminatory content. The FA responded by reiterating its stance that players deserve to compete without exposure to “hateful, discriminatory and distressing content online,” calling on service providers to take “all necessary steps” to create safer digital environments.
What comes next—and why it matters
Hope Not Hate argues that current efforts to combat online abuse are fundamentally reactive. Blocking users, reporting messages, and suspending accounts address the symptoms of the problem but fail to disrupt the mechanisms that give racist content its reach. Hermansson criticised X’s inaction, stating, “X doesn’t take racism seriously enough. We’ve seen it for a number of years now. There is no change or improvement.” The group suggests that platforms already possess the tools to alter their algorithms, but lack the political or commercial incentive to deploy them.
This raises urgent questions about accountability. If algorithms are designed to prioritise engagement over safety, who bears responsibility when they facilitate harm? The report’s findings suggest that self-regulation has failed, and that meaningful change will require external pressure—whether through legislation, investor action, or public scrutiny. For England’s players, the psychological toll of sustained online abuse is already evident, but the broader implications extend beyond football. The same systems that amplify racist abuse during major tournaments operate every day, shaping how millions encounter hate speech across the internet.
As the dust settles on the World Cup, the focus must shift from cleaning up abuse after the fact to dismantling the structures that make it profitable in the first place. The choice for platforms like X is stark: continue prioritising engagement at the expense of safety, or redesign their algorithms to prioritise human dignity over clicks. The players who represent England on the pitch deserve better than to be collateral damage in a system where outrage is monetised and hate is amplified by design.