International co-operation is under threat from the rise of ethno-nationalism, and global institutions are losing credibility. The World Cup’s status as the biggest entertainment event on Earth has created what may be an illusion: that this is one of only a few cosmopolitan enterprises that can rise above the forces of parochialization. But the cracks in that facade seem to be growing, which makes us wonder: could this be the last World Cup?
It might sound preposterous, but bear with us. The tournament at first thrived, at least in part, because it represented an outstanding vehicle for the political agenda of national governments. Mussolini’s 1934 World Cup and the one hosted by the Argentine junta in 1978 are among the more notorious cases. Even benign examples such as France in 1998 or Germany in 2006 were successes largely because they aligned with national agendas: in France’s case, promoting multiculturalism; in Germany’s, unification and a new, cuddlier patriotism. FIFA itself has long advanced its own political agenda, whether by strong-arming Japan and South Korea to co-host in 2002 or engineering the first African World Cup in 2010.
But over the past decade the world has entered a new, more troubling phase. We are now heading into a third successive World Cup engulfed by calls for a boycott due to a host nation’s human-rights or foreign-policy record.
Despite the bad press in the lead-up to their tournaments, Russia and Qatar ultimately hosted successful events in 2018 and 2022, respectively. Will the upcoming edition, jointly hosted by America, Canada and Mexico from June 11th to July 19th, pass off so smoothly? Or will it be the one that sends the tournament into a tailspin from which it cannot recover?
Here are just some of the unprecedented aspects of “Trump’s World Cup”: it is the first time that a host nation is engaged in an illegal war with a participating nation; the first time that citizens of four participating countries are subject to a travel ban issued by a host nation; and the first time a host nation’s leader has openly threatened to annex one co-host and torn up trade agreements with the other. And although the World Cup stands out as a festival of international travel, American policies on entry to the country, as well as the targeting of immigrants within—not to mention nauseatingly high ticket prices—have given many supporters pause.
Frequently, a critical press presages disaster, whereas the actual event proceeds to plan. But Mr Trump has a pattern all of his own, and this time catastrophes may well materialize. Take the anomalies above and add the president’s unpredictability and unchecked power, and there is a good chance that something could go badly wrong. If it did, then the underlying strains within the FIFA family could turn into something irremediable.
It’s a family that is already dysfunctional. The relationship between Europe, where most of the money is, and the rest of FIFA, where the political power resides, is tense. FIFA wants to undermine UEFA, the European governing body, and capture its revenue streams—last year’s Club World Cup was all about FIFA trying to upstage UEFA’s Champions League. FIFA is increasingly turning away from Europe, with its president, Gianni Infantino, spending ever more time in Miami. In addition, these divides have led to the creation of a new players’ union, which will compete with FIFPRO, the predominantly European union that is close to UEFA. As FIFA expands the size and number of tournaments it organizes, this also creates strain with UEFA in the debate about player workload and burnout.
Moreover, as FIFA looks beyond Europe, some of the supposedly up-and-coming branches of the family are in crisis. The African football federation, CAF, is reeling after its farcical decision to strip Senegal of the African Cup of Nations and hand the trophy to host nation Morocco—two months after the event.
Is a split, or the sudden crumbling of FIFA’s credibility, unimaginable? There is, in fact, a near-precedent: the Olympic Games enjoyed remarkable growth, but then nearly collapsed after the second world war. Successive boycotts in 1976, 1980 and 1984 came close to destroying it. Other sports have fragmented in the face of competing interests, boxing being a prominent example, with multiple sanctioning bodies and rival competition formats.
Keep in mind, too, that FIFA is little more than the sum of its member associations, and America’s highly controversial immigration policies, enforcement practices and newly rediscovered bellicosity could put unbearable strain on the organization’s alliances and voting blocs.
The origins of crisis are rarely predictable in detail, but here’s one scenario. A Spanish fan is detained on entering a stadium to watch her national team, transported to an ICE facility, beaten and dies of an untreated infection. Spain demands sanctions against the US Soccer Federation as host governing body. FIFA, with close ties to the Trump administration, refuses to intervene. Spain, along with 2030 co-hosts Portugal and Morocco, decides to ban American fans from entry during the World Cup. FIFA threatens Spain with sanctions, UEFA lends support to Spain and several African countries—still upset that Morocco was awarded the African Cup of Nations—decide to boycott the World Cup altogether. Fanciful? Maybe, but we live in an era when reality seems to be stranger than fiction.
The World Cup has expanded continuously since its inauguration in 1930. Nothing grows for ever, and when growth stops, decline usually follows—and can be rapid. One thing is certain: the current edition will provide a focus for everything people dislike about the tournament’s excesses.
The most likely outcome, of course, is a World Cup in 2030. But it is not guaranteed. And if there is a tournament, what will it look like? How many countries will care or bother to show up? And if a critical mass withdraws, will it mean anything? Quite possibly not. Because FIFA has become a farce, and the curtain must fall eventually.
Stefan Szymanski is a professor of sport management at the University of Michigan and co-author of “Soccernomics”. Ashish Malhotra is a journalist and series creator of “The Dark Side of The World Cup” for Zeteo. They co-host The Soccernomics Podcast (with Simon Kuper).
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