Canada’s refusal of entry visa to Thomas Partey is not simply a World Cup inconvenience for Ghana.
It is a test case in the tension between three competing principles: Canada’s sovereign right to control entry into its territory, Ghana’s duty to protect the interests of one of its nationals, and the wider legal principle that an accused person remains innocent until proven guilty.
The background is now familiar. Partey, named in Ghana’s World Cup squad, was expected to travel from the Black Stars’ United States base to Toronto for Ghana’s opening Group L match against Panama.
FIFA has confirmed that he cannot make that journey because the Canadian government refused his visa application. FIFA has also distanced itself from the decision, making clear that it does not adjudicate visas and that immigration decisions remain the preserve of host governments.
That FIFA position matters because it immediately removes football politics from the legal centre of the dispute. Ghana may be angry. The Ghana Football Association may feel competitively disadvantaged. Supporters may argue that a World Cup host should facilitate the participation of qualified players.
But in law, participation in a FIFA tournament does not create an automatic right of entry into Canada. The first legal foundation of Canada’s position is therefore sovereignty. A state decides who enters its territory, subject to its domestic law and its international obligations.
The Canadian law reportedly relied upon is paragraph A36(1)(c) of the Immigration and Refugee Protection Act, usually referred to as IRPA. That provision deals with serious criminality.
In substance, it allows Canada to treat a foreign national as inadmissible where the person is believed to have committed an act outside Canada that is an offence in the place where it was committed and that, if committed in Canada, would amount to a federal offence punishable by a maximum prison term of at least ten years.
The important legal phrase is not only “convicted.” The provision also speaks of “committing an act outside Canada.” That is why Canada can move beyond a simple question of whether Partey has been convicted.
This is the heart of Canada’s legal reasoning. Partey is facing serious criminal proceedings in the United Kingdom, including rape and sexual assault allegations, which he denies. He has pleaded not guilty and has not been convicted.
However, Canadian immigration law does not always wait for a conviction before assessing admissibility. Under IRPA section 33, facts supporting inadmissibility under sections 34 to 37 may include facts for which there are “reasonable grounds to believe” that they occurred, are occurring or may occur.
In Canadian immigration law, that standard is lower than proof beyond reasonable doubt. It is not the standard used to convict a person in a criminal trial. It is an administrative threshold used to assess risk and eligibility for entry.
This is why Canada’s decision may be legally defensible. If an immigration officer looked at the UK charges, the underlying police or prosecution material, and the equivalent Canadian offences, the officer could reason that the alleged conduct, if committed in Canada, would fall within Canadian sexual assault offences.
Under Canada’s Criminal Code, sexual assault under section 271 carries a maximum sentence of ten years when prosecuted by indictment. More aggravated forms of sexual assault carry even higher maximum penalties. On that logic, the seriousness threshold under IRPA A36(1)(c) may be met.
The legal bridge Canada must cross is called equivalency. It is not enough to say, “there are allegations in the UK.” The officer must ask whether the alleged conduct is an offence where it occurred, and whether the same essential conduct would be an offence under Canadian federal law.
In this case, Canada would likely argue that rape and sexual assault allegations in the UK map onto Canadian sexual assault offences, and that the maximum penalty threshold under Canadian law is high enough to trigger serious criminality.
That, however, is also where Ghana’s challenge becomes serious. Ghana’s argument is not that Canada has no immigration law. Ghana has expressly recognised Canada’s right to enforce its immigration system.
Ghana’s complaint is that Canada appears to have moved from allegation to consequence without a conviction. In Ghana’s view, pending charges are not proof. Partey remains before a UK court. He has denied the charges.
No judge or jury has made a finding of guilt. Therefore, Ghana argues that relying on those allegations to block him from a short World Cup visit is unfair, disproportionate and inconsistent with the presumption of innocence.
That argument has strong moral force, and some legal force too. The International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights states that everyone charged with a criminal offence has the right to be “presumed innocent until proved guilty according to law.”
The Universal Declaration of Human Rights carries the same principle. Ghana can therefore say that Canada’s decision, even if formally administrative, has a punitive effect. It prevents Partey from performing his professional duty at the World Cup and carries reputational weight, even though the criminal process has not concluded.
Canada’s likely response is equally important. Canada will say it has not convicted Partey. It has not sentenced him. It has not declared him guilty. It has only made an immigration decision based on the facts available and the law that applies.
That distinction is central. In criminal law, the question is guilt. In immigration law, the question is admissibility. A person may be presumed innocent for the purpose of trial and still be refused entry for the purpose of border control. That may look harsh, but it is not unusual in immigration systems.
Previous examples show how this logic works in practice. Canada has in the past refused entry to public figures and entertainers because of criminal inadmissibility concerns. Chris Brown’s cancelled Canadian shows in 2015 were widely linked to criminal inadmissibility arising from his record.
Mike Tyson’s travel restrictions in other jurisdictions, including the United Kingdom and New Zealand, also show how states use immigration law to keep out individuals linked to serious criminal records.
Those examples are not identical to Partey’s case because they involved convictions or established criminal records. But they show the broader principle that celebrity, sporting value or public demand does not override border control.
A closer World Cup example is the recent case of Somali referee Omar Abdulkadir Artan, who was reportedly denied entry into the United States despite being selected for the tournament. That case did not involve Partey’s legal issues, but it demonstrates the same institutional reality: FIFA accreditation does not defeat host country immigration rules. The same applies to reports of Iranian federation officials struggling with United States visas during the tournament. The World Cup may be global, but the borders remain national.
Still, Partey’s case is more legally delicate than cases involving convictions. The word “committing” in IRPA A36(1)(c) should not be treated as the same as “being charged.” A charge is an accusation. Committing an act is a factual conclusion.
The legal question is whether Canadian authorities had enough credible and objective material to reasonably believe the underlying acts occurred. If the refusal was based only on the existence of pending charges, Ghana has a stronger argument. If Canada had access to detailed law enforcement or prosecution material, Canada’s position becomes stronger.
That is where the fairness question sits. Did IRCC give Partey a proper opportunity to respond to the inadmissibility concern? Did the officer consider the fact that he had pleaded not guilty? Did the officer weigh the limited purpose of the visit, the short duration of stay, and the fact that he was travelling as part of a national team for a FIFA event?
Did the officer consider whether conditions could manage any perceived risk? Or was the decision effectively automatic once the UK charges were identified?
Those questions matter because Canadian immigration decisions must still be reasonable. A visa officer has discretion, but not unlimited discretion. The decision must follow a rational chain of analysis. It must connect the facts to the law. It must not treat allegation as conviction without explaining why the evidence crosses the immigration threshold. This is where Ghana’s possible Federal Court path comes in.
There are now two realistic routes for Ghana and Partey. The first is the diplomatic and administrative route. Ghana has lodged a formal protest and requested a review. This is consistent with diplomatic law.
Under the Vienna Convention on Diplomatic Relations, one function of a diplomatic mission is to represent the sending state, protect the interests of the state and its nationals, and negotiate with the receiving government.
Under the Vienna Convention on Consular Relations, consular officers may also protect and assist nationals. This gives Ghana every right to engage Canada, request reconsideration and support Partey through official channels.
But diplomacy has limits. The Vienna Conventions do not compel Canada to issue the visa. They only give Ghana the proper channel to protest, negotiate and protect its national. Canada can listen and still maintain the refusal. That is why Ghana’s best immediate diplomatic request may not be to say Canada has no power to refuse entry. It may be to ask Canada to exercise discretion differently.
That discretion exists under IRPA section 24, which allows a Temporary Resident Permit where an officer believes entry is “justified in the circumstances,” even if the person is otherwise inadmissible. This is Ghana’s most practical short term argument.
Partey is not asking to live in Canada. He is asking to enter temporarily for one match, under a known itinerary, as a member of an accredited national team. Ghana could argue that a tightly limited permit, with conditions attached, would protect Canada’s immigration concerns while avoiding a sporting and diplomatic escalation.
The second route is litigation. Ghana has indicated that judicial review before Canada’s Federal Court remains an option. That path is slower and more technical. A Federal Court review would not simply substitute the court’s opinion for that of the immigration officer.
The court would examine whether the decision was lawful, procedurally fair and reasonable. If Partey succeeds, the likely remedy would be to set aside the refusal and send the matter back for redetermination, not necessarily to order Canada to issue a visa immediately.
This is why timing is Ghana’s biggest problem. The match is close. Diplomatic reconsideration or a Temporary Resident Permit could move faster than court proceedings. Judicial review may be legally important, but it may not rescue Partey’s availability for the Panama game unless urgent steps are taken and Canada agrees or is ordered to reconsider rapidly.
Objectively, both sides have arguable positions. Canada is not legally powerless merely because Partey has not been convicted. Its immigration law allows inadmissibility assessments based on serious alleged conduct abroad, using a lower administrative standard than criminal conviction. It can also argue that hosting the World Cup does not suspend Canadian law and that all applicants must be assessed individually.
Ghana, however, is not merely playing politics. Its argument goes to the danger of allowing pending charges to produce severe consequences before trial. The presumption of innocence may not automatically force Canada to admit Partey, but it does demand careful reasoning, proportionality and fairness.
If Canada’s refusal was based on a proper evidentiary assessment, the decision may survive challenge. If it was based on the mere existence of allegations, it becomes far more vulnerable.
The clean conclusion is therefore this: Canada may have the legal power to refuse Partey entry, but Ghana has a legitimate basis to challenge how that power was exercised. The issue is not whether Canada can enforce its immigration law. It can.
The issue is whether, in this particular case, Canada fairly distinguished between an accused person and a convicted person, and whether it considered a proportionate temporary solution before excluding a key player in Ghana’s team from a global tournament.
By Wisdom Sarfo
