In the lead-up to the 1936 Olympics in Berlin, even the Nazis attempted to temper their image, keenly aware of how they might be perceived by international observers. They removed antisemitic signs from public view and suspended strict laws against homosexuality. In stark contrast, the forthcoming 2026 men’s World Cup is set to take place in a nation that shows little regard for how it is viewed by the global community.
The United States, under Donald Trump’s leadership, represents a significant departure from previous host nations. This administration seems eager for the world to witness its darker realities, embracing the revulsion that may accompany its actions.
The decision to bar Omar Abdulkadir Artan from entering the country just days before the tournament was a calculated move. Artan, hailing from Somalia, has been the target of Trump’s derogatory remarks, which have labeled Somalis as “We want to make sure we are not going to allow a soccer tournament to be the opportunity for terrorists to potentially get in the country,” and “Freedom of the press is very important to Fifa,” Andrew Giuliani, leading the White House World Cup task force, stated, “is not a meaningful growth driver”
On one level, it’s remarkable that such actions could evoke sympathy for a referee, a role typically devoid of such attention. However, this scenario is only one example of the broader narrative of cruelty that has characterized this World Cup. The vice-captain of Iraq was detained for seven hours upon arrival, while thirteen members of the Iranian delegation are still awaiting visas, and their fan ticket allocations have been rescinded. Reports indicate that eleven of the forty-eight participating nations, all from the global south, are facing either travel restrictions or unusually high visa denial rates.
What about FIFA, the governing body that appointed and accredited Artan, claiming last summer that “football unites the world”? Historically, FIFA has wielded significant influence over host nations, as evidenced by its past threats to revoke hosting rights over construction delays in Brazil and its successful push for Russia to ease immigration laws for fans. FIFA once declared, “Freedom of the press is very important to FIFA,” a statement that has not aged well.
FIFA’s power stemmed largely from its dealings with countries eager to showcase themselves and gain soft power, tourism revenue, and global validation. Since 2010, each men’s World Cup host has relied more on FIFA than the other way around.
The upcoming tournament may mark a turning point, as the United States might be the first host nation that does not need FIFA’s backing. The U.S. is not reliant on the financial gains from the World Cup; a report from Saxo Bank suggests the expected economic benefit will contribute less than 0.1% to GDP, and it will not be a significant growth driver.
Conversely, FIFA finds itself in desperate need of American financial resources. Unlocking the lucrative revenue potential of the U.S. sports market is crucial for Gianni Infantino to sustain the revenue growth that supports his influence. The 2030 World Cup, to be hosted by Spain, Portugal, Morocco, Argentina, Uruguay, and Paraguay, is projected to incur higher costs and lower ticket sales, with any shortfall to be compensated by increased marketing and broadcasting revenues.
As the World Cup expands to forty-eight teams, the number of nations possessing the necessary infrastructure and resources to host such an event is dwindling. Essentially, FIFA now relies far more on the U.S. than the U.S. does on FIFA, influencing the indignities it has been willing to accept. Will FIFA speak out against immigration raids at stadiums? What if a protest arises near a World Cup venue?
FIFA has already made its worldview evident through its actions. By repeatedly asserting that “football unites the world,” Infantino inadvertently reveals a perspective that excludes certain individuals from his definition of humanity. The list of marginalized groups now includes not only the imprisoned dissidents in Russia and the anonymous migrant workers in Qatar but also those who represent imagined threats to the Trump administration, like Senegalese fans or journalists posing difficult questions.
Ironically, the most viable solution—a more compact World Cup, less dependent on autocratic regimes and more accountable to the public—remains off the table. The power dynamics witnessed in this World Cup could very well become the model for future sporting events, with Saudi Arabia’s 2034 bid likely taking note of FIFA’s capitulation to hard power and commercial interests.
For years, FIFA has engaged in what Martin Müller describes as “event seizure,” where major sporting events dominate their host cities and reshape local laws and budgets. However, in this instance, the reverse is happening. Instead of the World Cup taking charge of the U.S., the U.S. is exerting control over the World Cup, transforming this esteemed global event into something tainted by political overtones.
Perhaps this situation does not affect you deeply. Maybe you still view sporting events as an escape from political realities. In that case, brace yourself for a World Cup filled with games divided into quarters, disrupted by extreme heat and fatigue, and marred by a flawed qualification process. Anticipate a group stage with thousands of vacant seats, masked police lingering at the periphery, and long shots of Infantino alongside JD Vance in the stands.
Infantino is but a reflection of a larger issue. Yet, amidst his self-proclaimed image as a global statesman, the irony lies in the fact that this summer will cement his reputation as one of the greatest cowards in sports—a petty figure who relinquished control of his own tournament, a man who faltered when faced with genuine conviction, and someone who held the world’s most influential cultural asset only to ultimately surrender it.
