A phone call and a red card
In July 2026, American forward Folarin Balogun was shown a red card. FIFA's rules are unambiguous: a sent-off player cannot play the following match, and there is no appeal. Yet Balogun played on. By Trump's own account, the U.S. president called FIFA president Gianni Infantino, and the suspension was lifted, the card left on record but the punishment suspended under Article 27, Balogun placed on probation. It was the first time since 1962 that a player facing a red card was cleared to play the next match. Seven months earlier, that same president had received FIFA's inaugural Peace Prize.
A neutrality rule nobody defines
FIFA's statutes contain Article 15, requiring every team and official to remain politically neutral. But FIFA has never spelled out what neutrality means, and that gap is where the argument lives. Critics say the vagueness lets FIFA apply looser standards to powerful nations while enforcing rules more strictly on weaker ones. The claim that football stays above politics does not survive FIFA's own record: from 1961 to 1992, South Africa was banned over apartheid, a 31-year political decision by a body that insists it does not do politics. The real question is not whether FIFA takes political stances, but which politics it notices.
Whose politics count
Infantino appeared at the signing ceremony for the Abraham Accords and, in 2026, partnered FIFA with the Board of Peace. Meanwhile, repeated calls for action against the Israeli Football Association have gone nowhere; FIFA calls the matter legally complex, language that echoes the U.S. and Israeli governments, even as human rights organizations pursued it at the International Criminal Court. Compare that with 2022: within days of Russia's invasion of Ukraine, FIFA suspended Russian teams outright — one institution, two entirely different responses to two wars. In December 2025, at a Kennedy Center ceremony, Infantino awarded the first FIFA Peace Prize to Trump, praising his "exceptional and extraordinary actions to promote peace and unity." The award landed as Trump's name was tied to Israel's military campaign in Gaza, which governments, UN experts, and rights groups have accused of genocide. Infantino's justification: a World Cup is impossible without good relations with the host government. Whether that differs from bending FIFA's rules for it is an open question.
The selectivity showed up off the pitch too. Asked which team he supported, Netanyahu named Argentine President Javier Milei, a self-described friend of Israel, before mentioning Lionel Messi at all — a fusion of a national team with political endorsement that drew no response from FIFA. At the 2022 World Cup, European players who wore protest armbands were cast by Western media as brave; in 2026, American players, from the biggest military backer of the Gaza war, were conspicuously silent. In Seattle, reporters pressed the Iran and Egypt teams on LGBTQ+ rights while FIFA officials steered talk back to football. Teams from poorer countries are routinely expected to answer for their governments; players from America, Britain, France, or Germany rarely are.
Follow the money
FIFA is projected to earn close to $13 billion this cycle, a figure the expanded 48-team format was designed to help deliver. The United States is now FIFA's largest broadcast market, U.S. rights values up roughly 94 percent, and 14 of FIFA's 26 sponsors are American companies. In 2024, Saudi Arabia's Aramco joined as a top-tier sponsor; that same year, Saudi Arabia was awarded the 2034 World Cup. The sequence looks less like coincidence than incentive: FIFA has strong commercial reasons not to upset the governments and companies now underwriting the tournament.
One rulebook, uneven outcomes
Before the tournament, referee Omar Artan was denied a U.S. visa over unproven suspicions of terror links, and FIFA said nothing. The Argentina-Egypt match, which Argentina won 3-2, was overshadowed by a disallowed goal, a contested foul, and inconsistent VAR calls; Egypt's coach gestured at the referee and called the tournament fixed. Days later, Switzerland's Breel Embolo was sent off in a case of mistaken identity his own coach called a disaster. Then came the Balogun call. UEFA described the intervention as a dangerous precedent, noting FIFA had previously applied the same Article 27 mechanism to Cristiano Ronaldo, Nicolás Otamendi, and Caicedo — but this time a sitting head of state, freshly awarded FIFA's own peace prize, phoned the FIFA president directly. Around the same period, Belgium's appeal against a separate decision was dismissed on a technicality. The rulebook was identical in every case; the outcomes were not.
Borders, visas, and a banned jersey
Hours before its match, Haiti's team was forced to change a kit bearing the symbol of the 1804 revolution that made Haiti the world's first free Black republic; FIFA judged it too political, even as national and military flags flew unchallenged in American stadiums. Travel bans kept most Iranian fans away entirely, while players and officials who did arrive faced strict visa conditions, some forced to leave the same day; months earlier, Iran had already boycotted over the U.S. refusal to grant visas to its federation officials, and FIFA took no firm stance. Fans from Tunisia, Algeria, and Cape Verde were asked for visa bonds of up to $5,000, the DR Congo squad was quarantined for 21 days, South African supporters were stuck in visa backlogs for months, and African journalists could not cover the tournament in full.
Gaza's uncounted dead
The starkest contrast concerns Gaza. Reports put the number of Palestinian athletes, coaches, and sports officials killed at over 1,000, including more than 34 registered footballers, among them former international Mohammed Barakat and Olympic coach Hani Al-Masdar; stadiums including Al-Yarmouk were destroyed or repurposed as detention sites. Human rights groups and the Palestinian Football Association call this "sporticide." Where FIFA suspended Russia within days of its invasion of Ukraine, complaints tied to Gaza sat unresolved for months. FairSquare has filed a formal complaint against Infantino with the IOC's Ethics Commission, arguing his conduct undermines the neutrality principle every IOC member signs; the IOC says it is reviewing the complaint.
A mirror, not a sanctuary
It is worth remembering who exposed FIFA's biggest corruption scandal in 2015: the FBI, the U.S. Justice Department, and the IRS. Eleven years later, a single phone call from the president of that same government halted a disciplinary punishment. Football has long been called the world's last neutral space; the 2026 World Cup, played as much at border checkpoints and in VAR rooms as on the pitch, suggested otherwise. The game was never neutral — it simply reflected whoever held the most leverage over it. What 2026 leaves behind is a harder question than any scoreline: who is allowed to play politics, and who pays the price for it.
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