Iran, Trump and the 2026 World Cup: FIFA’s most uncomfortable test
SportsIn
March 11, 2026

Gianni Infantino said on Wednesday, after meeting Donald Trump, that the United States president had reiterated that Iran is “welcome” at the 2026 World Cup. The phrase, however, does not close the discussion; it opens it. If a team that has already qualified needs an extraordinary political confirmation in order to take part in the tournament, the issue stops being only sporting and starts to raise a more basic question: who is really guaranteeing its presence, FIFA or the White House?

That is where the first deeper contrast appears. International sport, and especially the Olympic movement, presents itself as a space of respect, friendship and coexistence even between countries in conflict, values that the International Olympic Committee -IOC- continues to define as central to its identity. But the case of Iran forces a comparison between that language and political reality: a team due to play on US soil in the middle of a war, or in its immediate aftermath, places FIFA under pressure to prove that a qualified national side does not depend on the political will of the host country in order to compete under normal conditions.

The universality of football cannot depend on a phrase from Trump

That is precisely the point at which the responsibility of FIFA and Infantino stops being rhetorical. It should not be Trump who symbolically determines whether Iran can be in the tournament, but FIFA itself guaranteeing from the outset that every qualified team will be able to compete normally. If the most powerful figure in world football limits himself to relaying the host nation’s message, the risk is obvious: that the tournament’s real authority appears to shift from the body that organises it to the political power of the country hosting it.

Nor is the problem solved by a diplomatic formula. Iran is scheduled to play its three group matches in the United States, specifically in Inglewood and Seattle, and the 2026 World Cup system relies on the ordinary entry and immigration requirements of each host country. That means it is not enough to say that the team will be admitted. Visas, travel, security, sporting preparation and conditions comparable to those of every other national team also have to be guaranteed. If a delegation is allowed into the country but ends up living through the tournament as an exception, can it really be said to be competing on equal terms?

The issue is not only whether Iran will play, but under what conditions

The question becomes even broader when it looks beyond the dressing room. Can a team truly be said to be welcome if its supporters, relatives or part of its wider entourage are not? A World Cup is not carried only by 26 footballers and a coaching staff. It is also shaped by those who travel to accompany them, those who fill the stands and those who turn the tournament into a global event.

FIFA itself has already taken on public commitments regarding rights and access for the 2026 World Cup, including frameworks on non-discrimination and on risk protection for participants and spectators. That is why the debate is not only about whether Iran will be able to play, but about whether the organisation is willing to guarantee that it does so in an environment that is safe, stable and recognisable as a World Cup.

The Indonesia precedent turns the case into a test of consistency

The discomfort for FIFA grows once the precedent of Indonesia enters the picture. In March 2023, the organisation removed the country as host of the Under-20 World Cup after the controversy surrounding Israel’s participation. That decision established a basic principle: a host nation cannot block the presence of a team that has already qualified. That is why the question now becomes unavoidable. Would FIFA apply the same standard to the United States that it applied to Indonesia, or does the host’s status as a global superpower effectively change the level of pressure the organisation is willing to apply?

The case of Iran does not only measure FIFA’s ability to deliver a huge tournament despite international instability. Above all, it measures its willingness to exercise authority in the face of the host nation’s political power. If football wants to continue presenting itself as a sporting space built on values, it cannot be enough simply to repeat that everyone is welcome. It has to show who has the final word when that promise comes into conflict with reality.