The World Cup is no longer just a sporting tournament with a knockout structure. Simon Cooper, in his new book for the Financial Times, presents an analysis of the World Cup as a monumental chronicle of modernity—from the idealistic ambitions of World War I veterans to the contemporary geopolitical manoeuvrings and moral dilemmas of the 21st century. In discussion with Stefano Di Pietro, the creative director of Football Makes History, Cooper illustrates how the sport embodies the dissolution of colonial empires, the rise of European social democracy, and the formation of a worldwide cult around the game.
From WWI trenches to Jules Rimet's dream
Jules Rimet, the architect behind the World Cup, was a 40-year-old official who enlisted to fight in the war. After four grueling years on the front lines and earning three Military Crosses, he returned with a steadfast belief that Europe required lasting peace, primarily between the historical rivals of France and Germany. Football, he deemed, was the perfect tool for fostering unity among nations.
Rimet fought alongside Senegalese soldiers, yet the tournament he envisioned was originally intended for a solely white audience. The inaugural event in Uruguay attracted teams from Europe, the USA, and Latin America, while in the 1920s, colonial realities were scarcely acknowledged. A working-class lad from humble beginnings, Rimet fundamentally challenged the sporting philosophies of his time. Unlike Pierre de Coubertin, an aristocrat who insisted on strict amateurism in the Olympic movement, Rimet advocated for professionalism. His pivotal insight was that to allow the working class to participate, players needed to be compensated, rescuing football from the clutches of elitism.
The collapse of colonial barriers was painfully slow. As late as the 1990 World Cup in Italy, only two teams represented the entire continents of Asia and Africa, while from the British Isles, three teams made the journey. A turning point wasn’t realised until 1974, when Brazilian Joao Havelange displaced conservative Englishman Stanley Rous as FIFA president, capitalising on the votes of newly-independent nations from the Global South.
The myth of Pelé and the triumph of institutions
For decades, football had nurtured the myth of an inevitable African breakthrough at the World Cup. Since the 1950s, this mantra echoed from the mouths of England's coach Walter Winterbottom to Pelé himself. Yet, stark reality proved otherwise: in the ensuing forty years, no team from south of the Sahara surpassed the sensational Cameroon squad of 1990. Even Morocco's historic run in 2022 was largely comprised of players raised and trained in the academies of France, Belgium, the Netherlands, and Spain.
Cooper attributes the overwhelming advantage of Western Europe not to inherent talent but to the triumph of social welfare models:
- Infrastructure of social democracy: Accessible pitches and free youth sections in municipalities across the Netherlands, Germany, and Costa Rica. In the overpopulated megacities of India, China, or Africa, most children simply lack the space to kick a ball.
- Mass participation: Unlike basketball or rowing, where potential stars can be identified early via physical characteristics, football requires a vast pool of participants, both boys and girls.
- Understanding of space: European football academies have spent decades honing the fundamental questions of player positioning during the 88 minutes a match unfolds away from the ball.
- The Champions League effect: The world's best players dine together in one competitive cauldron, continuously adopting ideas from each other. Over the last two decades, only Argentina during Lionel Messi’s era managed to compete on even terms with this European machine.
Totalitarian regimes from the socialist bloc failed to integrate into this system. The USSR and East Germany dominated in the Olympics through early selection, but the improvisational nature of football rendered their rigid administrative hierarchies ineffective.
Football's great collective mass of the TV age
Television transformed the football tournament into a global carnival, eclipsing less dynamic sports such as baseball or five-day cricket. Simon Cooper compares it to a secular religious event, akin to Easter or Eid al-Adha. The World Cup allows humanity to pause the daily grind and heavy toil.
Unlike religious celebrations which often divide people by faith, the World Cup unites everyone. A supporter from India or China, whose national teams face dismal chances of reaching the tournament stages, enthusiastically dons a Brazil shirt or rallies behind Cristiano Ronaldo. Even during the controversial tournament in Qatar, metro carriages became melting pots where Saudis, Iranians, women in hijabs, Europeans in shorts, and Americans sang together without a hint of aggression.
However, Cooper remains sceptical about politicians trying to use football as a tool for societal change. The triumph of France's multi-ethnic team in 1998 did not stop the rise of far-right sentiments within the country. Football does not magically alter people's views—it merely serves as a vast screen onto which nations project their hopes, fears, migration debates, and their place in history.
Cooper highlights the 1982 semi-final clash between France and Germany in Seville as encapsulating the essence of the tournament. The match embodied the drama of the 20th century: the steadfast German character, the French tragedy, Patrick Battiston's horrifying injury inflicted by Harald Schumacher, and the lingering shadow of World War II over that emerald pitch. In those ninety minutes, football transcended the realm of sport, becoming a testament to our civilization.
