World Cup 2026 Opens in North America With Record Scale and Fresh Controversy
The tournament's tri-nation edition is the biggest in the competition's history — and one of the most contested before a ball has been kicked.
The 2026 FIFA World Cup kicked off Thursday across three countries — the United States, Canada and Mexico — marking the start of what organisers and critics alike are calling a structurally transformed competition. The 23rd edition of the tournament is the largest ever staged, featuring an expanded field and a schedule stretched across more cities and weeks than any predecessor.
The scale of the event is unprecedented. Spread across a continent rather than a single nation, the competition involves more host cities, more matches and a significantly longer duration than previous editions. Le Figaro described the format as a tipping point into outright "gigantism," noting that the commercial ambitions underpinning the expansion are equally record-breaking, with revenues projected to dwarf those of prior tournaments.
Yet the opening arrives under a cloud of controversy. France 24 noted that this edition has accumulated multiple polemics before a single match has been played — while also observing that scandal has shadowed nearly every World Cup since the inaugural 1930 tournament in Uruguay. The specific grievances surrounding 2026 range from governance concerns to the political optics of the host configuration.
Among the most pointed critiques is the role of the United States' political climate in shaping the event's image. Libération published an analysis by researcher Lukas Aubin arguing that the tournament has been instrumentalised as a vehicle for the assertion of Western — and specifically American — dominance, with Donald Trump positioning himself prominently around the spectacle. Aubin contended, however, that this framing obscures a deeper shift: global football itself is undergoing what he termed a "de-westernisation," with power, talent and fan bases increasingly concentrated outside the traditional Euro-American axis.
Le Figaro largely set aside those political readings, emphasising instead the economic logic driving FIFA's expansion strategy. From that perspective, the tri-nation format is a rational response to demand — more slots for more nations, more matches for broadcasters, more revenue for the governing body. Critics on the left see the same facts differently: a commercialised behemoth that has drifted far from sport's civic roots.
The North American co-hosting arrangement has its own historical resonance. Mexico is appearing as a host nation for the third time, giving it a record unmatched by any other country. The United States last hosted in 1994; Canada makes its debut as a World Cup host. The logistical challenge of coordinating a tournament across three separate nations, three distinct legal systems and multiple time zones has no real precedent at this scale.
Several uncertainties will shape how the month-long event is ultimately judged. Whether the expanded format produces more compelling football or merely more football remains an open question that only the competition itself can answer. The political backdrop — including the United States' own domestic tensions — could intrude on coverage in ways difficult to predict.
What Aubin's analysis suggests, and what the next several weeks may bear out, is that the loudest assertion of Western primacy over global football may arrive precisely as that primacy is eroding. Whether the 2026 tournament is remembered for its commercial triumph, its controversies or its role in accelerating a realignment of the sport's centre of gravity is a question that remains genuinely open.