With less than six months to go before the next World Cup, it is not the draw or tactical intrigue that is dominating football’s conversation but FIFA’s so‑called “Peace Prize.” The episode — more symbolic than sporting — has pushed governance, messaging and power to the fore, putting FIFA president Gianni Infantino and his political approach under the spotlight just as the game should be preparing for its showpiece.
The discomfort is not simply about optics. As discussed on RTÉ’s Behind the Story with the Independent’s chief football writer Miguel Delaney, it is about how FIFA operates, how culture‑war framing can sway votes, and what it means when a leader of a self‑described neutral body is perceived to step into overtly political territory. The questions converge around a blunt reality: Infantino presides over a not‑for‑profit organization that is set to make billions from the 2026 World Cup, and the way he uses that platform matters for the sport far beyond one awards gesture.
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At issue is the balance FIFA claims to maintain between political neutrality and global leadership. The statutes pledge distance from political disputes. The presidency, however, is a political role by design, requiring consensus across 200‑plus member associations spanning every region and worldview. When cultural flashpoints — from symbols to social campaigns — become the lens through which decisions are viewed, votes can align less around football outcomes and more around identity and grievance. The “Peace Prize” episode became a proxy debate: whose values is FIFA signaling, and to whom?
That a ceremonial accolade could overshadow a World Cup draw speaks to the gravitational pull of off‑field politics in today’s game. For critics, the worry is not one speech or one prize but a pattern: that Infantino has grown more political in tone and activity, and that the line between sport and statecraft is blurring under his watch. At a minimum, the perception undercuts FIFA’s insistence that it serves the game, not agendas.
Understanding how this dynamic took hold requires a look at FIFA’s machinery. Its one‑association‑one‑vote structure means a coalition spread across continents can determine strategic direction. That dynamic rewards relentless networking, ceaseless travel and sharp messaging. It also rewards framing — presenting choices in cultural terms that resonate within different societies. When hot‑button issues dominate, they can override the granular business of development, refereeing, youth programs and calendar design. The immediate public result is noise; the long‑term risk is policy drift.
The money amplifies everything. World Cup 2026 will be the most lucrative edition yet, with expanded matches, unprecedented audiences and commercial commitments that cascade down to national associations. Any president guiding that windfall wields extraordinary soft power. Who gets face time, which initiatives are championed, which markets are prioritized — these are decisions that shape global football’s future. When the decisions appear filtered through culture‑war narratives, the legitimacy of the entire enterprise is questioned.
Infantino’s rise is inseparable from that architecture. The presidency demands votes, and votes require trust. For many associations, trust is built on reliable development support and the promise that their voices matter as much as any powerhouse federation’s. That is a defensible principle of fairness. Yet the same design can cement a center of gravity around one leader’s rhetoric, especially when public positioning spills beyond football’s traditional lanes of governance and into geopolitical symbolism. Critics hear speeches and see prizes and conclude that neutrality is being stretched to accommodate a broader political persona.
There is also a subtler cost: distraction. Football’s calendar congestion, the health of the women’s game, safe environments at tournaments, safeguarding, grassroots funding, the integrity of qualifications and refereeing — these are the universal issues fans and federations expect FIFA to manage with rigor. When headlines are captured by symbolic awards and performative positioning, the impression is that the daily work of running the sport risks being subordinated to image‑making.
None of this is to argue that FIFA should retreat into silence. Global football sits at the intersection of culture and community in nearly every country on earth. From anti‑discrimination to access and inclusion, the game can be a force for good. But the way an institution speaks matters as much as what it says. If neutrality is the rule, then consistency must be the practice. If the presidency is to be a steward of the World Cup’s vast revenues, then transparency and restraint become essential checks on the temptation to court applause through grand gestures.
What would course correction look like? Start with clarity. Spell out how and why symbolic initiatives are chosen, who vets them, and how they align with FIFA’s charter. Reaffirm neutrality with concrete guidelines for presidential conduct in political contexts. Center upcoming communications on football: player welfare, infrastructure, officiating standards, fan access, and the specific measures that will make 2026 safer, fairer and better organized. And ensure the voting mechanisms for major decisions are insulated from culture‑war pressure by prioritizing evidence and stakeholder consultation over rhetorical point‑scoring.
In the weeks ahead, the World Cup narrative will gain momentum as squads are named and preparation ramps up. FIFA can either be the supporting architecture that lets the sport breathe or the main character in a public drama of its own making. The “Peace Prize” moment is a reminder of the stakes: symbolism travels faster than policy, and once trust is dented, it is hard to restore.
The point made on Behind the Story is ultimately a hopeful one. Football still has the ability to set its own agenda. If its most powerful institution recommits to the neutrality it proclaims and to the unglamorous work of governing well, the game’s energy will snap back to the pitch — where it belongs as World Cup 2026 nears. Until then, the headlines will keep asking the same question about Gianni Infantino: is he stewarding the sport, or starring in a story that keeps drifting away from it?
You can listen to Behind the Story on the RTÉ Radio Player.
By Abdiwahab Ahmed
Axadle Times international–Monitoring.
