The Federation Internationale de Football Association, known worldwide by its acronym FIFA, is the most powerful sports body outside the International Olympic Committee. It is the global custodian of football — popularly called ‘the beautiful game’ — and conducts the World Cup, the most prestigious single-sport competition in the universe.

What started in 1930 as a 13-team tournament has now grown into a behemoth. The ongoing edition in the U.S., Canada and Mexico is the 23rd World Cup, and features a record 48 teams and 104 matches.

Founded in 1904 in Paris, FIFA started with seven members — France, Belgium, Denmark, the Netherlands, Sweden, Switzerland, and Spain. Its original mandate was to bring structure to the international game, organise fixtures, and agree on a common set of rules.

The British associations in England, Scotland, Wales, and Ireland, which predated FIFA and had already set in place organised football in their territories, joined FIFA starting in 1905. Though the equation was stormy in the initial decades — with the First World War and disputes over monetary compensation for amateur players competing at the Olympics leading to the British associations’ withdrawal on multiple occasions — it stabilised after the Second World War and has remained so until now.

After Jules Rimet took over as president in 1921, FIFA was in charge of football at the Olympics for the first time at Paris 1924. The success of that, and of the event four years later in Amsterdam, prompted FIFA to think of a tournament of its own.

The inaugural World Cup was born in 1930 and was held in Uruguay, the nation which won the Olympic golds in 1924 and 1928. The in-form team, unsurprisingly, also became the first world champion. Since then, such has FIFA’s growth been that it now has 211 members, more than the UN. At its core, it is a non-profit organisation that “oversees and promotes the development of football at every level”. But it is also among the richest bodies. At the end of 2025, FIFA’s reserves, according to its own financial report, amounted to $2.69 billion. Cape Verde, which is competing in North America this summer and is the third-smallest nation ever to qualify (population less than six lakhs), has reserves of $0.78 billion (data from 2024).

Generous powers

Understandably, the FIFA president, who sits atop this edifice, wields enormous power, and with a generous term limit of three four-year periods (consecutive or otherwise), he or she can make decisions that can have lasting consequences. Prior to 2016, term limits weren’t enforced. In fact, for 41 years from 1974 to 2015, FIFA just had three presidents — Englishman Stanley Rous for more than 12 years, Brazil’s Joao Havelange for a little over 24, and Swiss Sepp Blatter for more than 17.

Before that, Frenchman Rimet — whose name the World Cup trophy carried from 1950 to 1970 — was at the helm for 33 years (from March 1921 to June 1954). Current president Gianni Infantino has been the leading man since early 2016. It is this structure, which allows a FIFA president to turn the organisation into a personal fiefdom, that has given rise to most controversies. The bosses have never shied away from striking friendships with problematic political figures and authoritarian regimes in search of big capital.

FIFA, by virtue of being a non-profit, is duty-bound to redistribute its revenues to member nations. Prima facie, it’s a democratic move, and even noble, considering that the money ensures the sport’s survival and development in many countries. But this dole has often been weaponised in return for votes to keep the head in power for perpetuity. Every FIFA member, big or small, has a vote, and is directly involved in electing the president.

The 1934 World Cup was held in Benito Mussolini’s Italy. The 1978 edition was conducted in Argentina, under dictator Gen. Jorge Rafael Videla’s rule and Havelange’s blessings. Rous was unwavering in his support for Apartheid South Africa while Blatter dangled the monetary carrot to the developing world to keep his throne for as long as he did.

It is ironic that Infantino would preside over a FIFA which has remained unchanged. He vaulted to power promising reforms after serious corruption charges related to the allotment of the 2018 and 2022 World Cups to Russia and Qatar, respectively, brought down Blatter’s house of cards.

But he has since cultivated relationships with Russian President Vladimir Putin and U.S. President Donald Trump, and attracted a deal worth $1 billion from Saudi Arabia, the country which will host the 2034 World Cup. In 2019, he accepted the Russian Order of Friendship medal from Mr. Putin. Last December, FIFA created the first-ever Peace Prize — literally out of nowhere — and awarded it to Mr. Trump.

Infantino has also moved to extend his term beyond the 12-year ceiling that was brought in at the Extraordinary FIFA Congress in early 2016 in the aftermath of the corruption scandal. The 56-year-old has said his first three years in office (2016-19) were from Blatter’s unfinished term and hence would not stop him from being re-elected in 2027.

At the ongoing World Cup, FIFA has been heavily criticised for its cavalier attitude regarding American immigration authorities’ arbitrary actions in denying entry to fans, match officials, and team personnel alike. Most notable was the rejection meted out to Somalian referee Omar Artan, the best men’s referee from Africa in 2025.

Limits of influence

Infantino has defended FIFA by saying there are limits to how much the governing body can influence an individual country’s immigration policies. But a decade ago, when Mr. Trump had signed an executive order banning immigration from six Muslim-majority countries, Infantino had declared that “there is no World Cup” if supporters and officials do not have access.

While increasing the number of teams in the World Cup to 48 will help enlarge the game’s footprint, the FIFA Club World Cup bloating to a 32-team affair starting 2025 from a modest seven outfits earlier further entrenches FIFA’s power. The competition, which has replaced the Confederations Cup as a World Cup preparatory event, ran for a month in the U.S. last summer, a slot otherwise reserved for players’ rest and recuperation.

Reportedly, there is an urge to make it biennial, and the $85 million Chelsea received as prize money for winning in 2025 is a big enough perk for the participants to agree.

All of this highlights a fundamental conflict at the heart of FIFA’s functioning. On the one hand, it is the guardian of the sport, defines laws, puts in place the rules and is expected to act impartially in disputes between its members. At the same time, it has tournaments to sell and a partially self-imposed obligation to generate revenue, forcing it to turn a blind eye when those like the U.S. err.

Can such a system, where the referee is also a player, stay true to the cause?