A few years ago it was common to hear the view that international football was dead, replaced by the club game as the sport's be all and end all. World Cup fever proves that this prediction was well wide of the mark.

The analysis was based on a crude form of economic determinism. The nation state was becoming less important in world affairs, and therefore the same would inevitably happen in sports as well.

A badge of identity

This underestimates the extent to which people all around the planet continue to feel themselves as part of a nation. It is a key part of identity. It could even be that in an age when many countries no longer have a national airline, the football team becomes even more important - it is a badge of identity being shown to the world.

But that does not mean that the identity in question is fixed and unchanging. Look, for example, at the national team of Germany, and especially the youth sides who took part last year in FIFA World Cups at Under-20 and Under-17 levels. They were full of different skin shades and colours. In a country where historically the concept of belonging has been based on bloodlines rather than birth, these teams were representations of the new globalized Germany and its racial diversity. It is a drastic change from German sides of as recently as 20 years ago.

But this, of course, is in Western Europe, a zone where extreme nationalism has been discredited by centuries of warfare. In other parts of the world not all countries are as comfortable with the changes brought about by the movement of people across boundaries. One of them is Paraguay.

Landlocked in the middle of the continent, Paraguay is something of an exception in South America. Elsewhere, indigenous populations were marginalized by the colonizing Spanish and Portuguese. But in isolated Paraguay the meeting of Europeans and Native Americans produced a new race, which preserved the original language, Guarani. Paraguay is bi-lingual. Spanish is the language of officialdom, but everyone also speaks Guarani. Indeed, in rural areas it is possible to find people who only speak Guarani. Even in the capital, Asuncion, the downmarket press features plenty of Jopara, a blend of the two languages.

For a while in the nineteenth century Paraguay was thriving. But it was ruined by the war against Brazil, Argentina and Uruguay in the 1870s. Since then it has been relatively impoverished, and like many poor countries, it became an exporter of people who moved in search of economic opportunities.

The favourite destination was neighbouring Argentina, which was prosperous in the middle of the twentieth century. As time went on, Buenos Aires' dockside Boca neighbourhood, once a haven for Italian immigrants, became full of Paraguayans. In the nature of immigration, some of this community made progress, inserted themselves in their new society, married Argentines, had children.

But what of their children? Which country did they belong to? They might have one Paraguayan parent, but they were growing up in Argentina, speaking Spanish with the very distinctive Argentine accent- and not speaking Guarani. If they had footballing talent, would they be accepted as representatives of Paraguay?

This is a question that has become pertinent in recent years. An interesting case was that of Roberto 'the Bull' Acuna, a strong and classy midfielder who played for Paraguay in the World Cups of 1998, 2002 and 2006. He was a product of the diaspora - though his acceptance was probably hastened by the fact that as a youngster he moved to Paraguay to kick-start his career.

An indication of the degree of difficulty is provided by the national team's current left back, Claudio Morel Rodriguez. He was born in Paraguay, where his dad was a local hero. Striker Eugenio Morel was a vital member of the team that won the 1979 Copa America. He then went to play in Argentina, where his son was brought up and has spent his career. Even with such pedigree, it was not easy for Claudio to be accepted as a fully-fledged Paraguayan, and it was only after an Argentine coach took charge of the national team that he became a fixture in the side.

Performances on the field

There have since been two more cases: midfielders Jonathan Santana and Nestor Ortigoza, born in Argentina with, respectively, a Paraguayan mother and father. Part of the suspicion surrounding them was the feeling that they were throwing in their lot with Paraguay only because they were not good enough to play for Argentina. Indeed, in the case of Ortigoza, he was called up by Diego Maradona for training sessions with Argentina, and, apparently, only made his final decision after consulting the former great.

Perhaps it is significant that performances on the field have helped their cause. Ortigoza looked impressive from his first few touches in Paraguay's red and white shirt, and was quickly accepted. In Santana's case the process took longer - but was helped enormously by a determined display last year in the 1-0 win over Argentina.

Even so, there has been no call up for Lucas Barrios, the Argentine-born striker who has been a consistent goal scorer in recent seasons, first in Chile and now in Germany. He, too, has a Paraguayan parent. Perhaps the addition of one more 'foreigner' would be too politically sensitive.

Ignoring Barrios, though, does not mean that this issue is going to go away. That Paraguayan diaspora will surely keep producing players, qualified to play for the country yet not fitting the cultural norm of speaking Guarani.

Can Paraguayans cope with the way that globalization is broadening the concept of their nationhood? Are they able to embrace a future in which some members of their national team sound like Argentines? And how have these issues of representation played out in a country of large-scale immigration such as Canada?