Why dictators love the World Cup

    The 2026 FIFA World Cup in the US, Mexico, and Canada kicked off on Thursday. Much has been said about soaring ticket prices, expensive travel, climate concerns, and security risks. But for many, the biggest worry is that US president Donald Trump is about to turn football's biggest party into a personal spectacle and MAGA showcase.

    The World Cup has been used for propaganda long before him. The 1934 World Cup in fascist Italy is often regarded as one of the first major sporting events to be used as a propaganda tool. By then, Italian dictator Benito Mussolini had been in power for more than a decade and promoted sport as a way to unite the nation, forge disciplined citizens, and glorify fascism.

    A fascist showcase

    As football exploded in popularity across Europe in the early 1930s, Mussolini saw an opportunity. Fascist Italy lobbied aggressively to host the World Cup and backed its bid with huge state resources. FIFA awarded it, showing little concern about the country's fascist nature.

    Mussolini used the tournament both to project power abroad and strengthen support for the regime at home. New stadiums were built in a monumental fascist style, posters and stamps were distributed, tickets featured fascist imagery.

    The regime bet on spectacle. Cheap travel tickets encouraged foreign supporters to attend, and extensive radio coverage brought the tournament into homes across the country. Although Mussolini was not much of a football fan, he closely associated himself with the event and attended all of Italy's matches.

    Italy went on to win the tournament, though allegations of political pressure and favourable refereeing have persisted to this day. The Italian players received not only the World Cup trophy, but also the – six times larger – Coppa del Duce, a trophy commissioned by Mussolini himself.

    As FIFA president Jules Rimet later put it: “During this World Cup, the real president of FIFA was Mussolini.”

    Playbook

    Other regimes later followed his playbook. Argentina's military dictatorship used the 1978 World Cup to project the image of a modern and successful nation, but also to draw attention away from reports of torture, political repression, and the disappearance of thousands of opponents taking place at the same time.

    Foreign journalists later reported censorship, surveillance, and restrictions on movement while covering the event. Argentina's victory became a gift for the dictatorship's propaganda at home, but internationally it eventually led to more scrutiny of the state terror.

    Russia followed the same script in 2018. Despite criticism over the annexation of Crimea, political repression, and media censorship, the Kremlin used the World Cup to appear friendly and open, made easier by a visa-free system.

    Qatar followed in 2022, using the tournament to showcase its wealth and global ambitions despite criticism of its treatment of migrant workers and broader human rights record.

    Trump is different

    Will Trump follow the same playbook? There are similarities, but according to Financial Times columnist and football writer Simon Kuper, there is also one crucial difference.

    “What Russia, Qatar, the Argentinian generals, and Mussolini did was to present their nation as friendlier and more welcoming than it really is,” he said in a podcast last week. “But Trump is overtly brutal and unfriendly to the world. He's not pretending to be anything different. And he is not trying to hide it.”

    Where previous World Cups were used to project unity and national strength, the 2026 tournament may become a stage for protest. “I suspect there'll be a lot of anti-Trump singing, chanting, people wearing T-shirts,” Kuper said. “I think the World Cup will be a very contested space, much more than any recent World Cup.”