Poor FIFA peace prize—scorned, ridiculed, and now relegated to the social responsibility committee after Infantino tossed it aside. Its rescue aims to spare the president further embarrassment over a clearly bogus honor.
Ironically, the inaugural FIFA peace prize hit its target: it flattered Donald Trump, a figure Infantino needed to keep friendly for lucrative North American deals. Trump basked in the golden bauble, briefly forgetting the Nobel he covets.
So what’s next?
That first version will linger as a monument to Infantino’s hubris, a symbol of his deference to strongmen. It survives only if he weathers the fallout of his World Cup privatization gamble and makes it through the March presidential vote.
In my view, a revamped peace prize could spotlight football’s genuine good deeds, rewarding those who harness the game’s cultural clout for social betterment. The sport transcends the pitch, echoing cultures and geopolitics, sometimes becoming a vessel for virtue.
You might honor Afghan Women United, now the official representatives of Afghanistan while playing in exile. Their June friendlies against the Cook Islands ended in defeats, but their very presence protests the Taliban’s renewed oppression.
Shakhtar Donetsk deserves recognition for thriving despite Russia’s invasion of Donbas twelve years ago, forcing the club to relocate and continue competing abroad.
Juan Mata could be praised for spearheading Common Goal, urging peers to donate 1 % of salaries. Marcus Rashford shamed the UK government into feeding children during the pandemic. Sadio Mané funded a hospital in Senegal, and N’Golo Kanté has backed similar projects in Mali.
Scotland’s Tartan Army might be lauded for raising funds for children’s charities wherever they travel. England’s players have donated match fees since 2007, totaling over $6.7 million (£5 million).
To link the award to peace, FIFA should rebrand it, stripping ties to the least peaceful Western leader in recent memory. Clear criteria and regulations are essential; the prize must either celebrate social good or stay apolitical—not both.
That isn’t necessarily negative, provided the honor sincerely rewards football’s finest citizens rather than serving the president’s self‑interest.
Leander Schaerlaeckens is the author of The Long Game: US Men’s Soccer and Its Savage, Four‑Decade Journey to the Top, or Thereabouts, now available. He teaches at Marist University. Will FIFA finally award a prize that truly reflects football’s power to foster peace?