Even the Nazis attempted to soften their image. Ahead of the 1936 Olympics in Berlin, the Third Reich was acutely aware of how their actions might be viewed by international observers and took steps to mitigate their more intolerant aspects. They removed antisemitic signs from shops and suppressed publications like Der Stürmer, even temporarily suspending Paragraph 175, which criminalized homosexuality.
In stark contrast, the co-hosting of the 2026 men’s World Cup is taking place in a nation largely indifferent to the opinions of foreign visitors. The United States under Donald Trump presents a unique tone, one that actively invites scrutiny of its darker elements, showcasing its inhumanity and reveling in the resulting outrage.
It is reasonable to surmise that the administration was fully aware of the implications when it barred Omar Abdulkadir Artan from entering just days before the tournament’s commencement. Artan hails from Somalia, a country that Trump has disparaged as populated by “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, who leads the White House World Cup task force, stated, “is not a meaningful growth driver”
On one level, it is astonishing to consider the depths of malevolence required to unite global sympathy for a referee. However, this incident is merely one act in the World Cup’s ongoing performance of cruelty. The Iraqi vice-captain faced a seven-hour detention upon arrival, and thirteen members of the Iranian delegation are still waiting for visas, having had their fan ticket allocations rescinded. Reports indicate that 11 of the 48 participating nations from the global south are currently experiencing travel restrictions or unusually high visa rejection rates.
What about FIFA, the organization that appointed and certified Artan for its tournament, which proudly declared last summer that “football unites the world”? Historically, the governing body of soccer has not hesitated to exert its influence over host nations. In 2014, it threatened to revoke Curitiba’s hosting rights due to delays in stadium construction. By 2018, it successfully pressured Russia to ease its strict immigration regulations to facilitate visa-free entry for fans, even intervening to lift a ban on journalist Hajo Seppelt. In its own words, “Freedom of the press is very important to FIFA,” a statement that has not aged particularly well.
FIFA was able to wield this power because it dealt with countries eager to present a favorable image, hungry for validation, soft power, and tourism revenue. In essence, every men’s World Cup host since 2010 has needed FIFA more than FIFA needed them.
The United States may mark the first instance where this traditional dynamic has shifted. The country does not rely on the financial windfall from the tournament; indeed, despite inflated ticket and transportation costs, it is unlikely to see significant economic benefit. A report from Saxo Bank suggests that the anticipated gain will amount to less than 0.1% of GDP and “is not a meaningful growth driver.”
Conversely, FIFA’s financial needs have become paramount. Tapping into the lucrative revenues of the U.S. sports market is crucial for Gianni Infantino to sustain the revenue growth that underpins his authority. The upcoming 2030 World Cup, set to take place across Spain, Portugal, Morocco, Argentina, Uruguay, and Paraguay, is already projected to incur higher costs and lower ticket sales, necessitating a reliance on increased marketing income and broadcast rights to cover the gap.
As the World Cup expands to include 48 teams, the number of countries capable of hosting, with sufficient size, resources, and infrastructure, is rapidly diminishing. Essentially, FIFA now finds itself in a position where it requires the U.S. far more than the U.S. needs FIFA, directly influencing the indignities and inconveniences it is willing to endure. Will FIFA raise its voice if immigration raids occur at stadiums? What if activists like Renée Good or Alex Pretti choose to protest near a World Cup venue?
FIFA has, in fact, already articulated its worldview with striking clarity. By continuously repeating the phrase “football unites the world” like a malfunctioning puppet, Infantino implicitly conveys that there are individuals he does not recognize as part of this world, perhaps not even as human beings. Alongside the imprisoned dissidents of Russia and the anonymous migrant laborers of Qatar, we can now include the perceived adversaries of the Trump administration: whether they be Senegalese football fans, journalists posing questions, or a referee from Somalia embarking on the pinnacle of his career.
Any meaningful solution—a more modest World Cup, less reliant on autocratic power, and more accountable to its audience—seems unlikely. Instead, the power dynamics of this World Cup may well set a precedent for future sporting events. One can be certain that Saudi Arabia, hosting in 2034, will have taken note of FIFA’s subservience and its complete lack of backbone when confronted with genuine autocratic power and pressing commercial interests.
For decades, FIFA has actively participated in what the academic Martin Müller termed “event seizure,” the phenomenon where large sporting events dominate their host cities and societies, rewrite local laws, and drain local budgets. However, in this instance, the opposite appears to have transpired. The World Cup has not seized control of the U.S.; rather, the U.S. has taken command of the World Cup, transforming this cherished global institution into a reflection of its own political landscape.
Perhaps none of this resonates with you. Maybe you still view sporting events as a cherished escape from the political arena. If so, enjoy your World Cup, characterized by games split into four quarters, marred by oppressive heat and fatigue, and complicated by a flawed qualification process. Relish the largely insignificant group stages, the thousands of vacant seats, the masked police stationed just out of view, and the prolonged shots of Infantino and JD Vance in the crowd.
Infantino represents the symptom rather than the underlying issue. Nevertheless, considering his self-image as a messianic global figure, it is ironic that this summer will solidify his legacy as one of the greatest cowards in sports: a petty and feeble individual who relinquished control over his own tournament, quaking in the presence of genuine conviction. He held one of the world’s most influential cultural platforms yet allowed it to slip through his fingers.
