US, Iran, Italy
and the 2026 World Cup

Michalis

Football, based on multiple data, factors, and arguments, is the king of sports.

There are plenty of reasons why: you can play it pretty much everywhere. No special equipment is needed, either; you just need a ball. And actually, if you had a childhood, you know that is not even mandatory.

Due to that, there are an estimated more than 200 million people playing the beautiful game, Joga Bonito as Brazilians call it. Players like Messi or Cristiano Ronaldo are among the most famous people on the planet. Football clubs like Real Madrid, Barcelona, Manchester United, or Bayern Munich are global brands.

And the World Cup? Arguably, the most-watched, most popular sporting event on the planet. 1.5 billion tuned in to watch Qatar's final in 2022, with FIFA reporting an audience engagement of 5 billion people over the entire tournament.

It's a ceremoniously beautiful concept, bridging nations; theoretically, countries all over the world have a chance for the dream. You train. You compete. You qualify, or you don't.

There is beauty in that; no favors. No family connections. No prestige from yesterday that buys you a ticket to tomorrow. You earn your place every single time, with no traditions or emotions involved.

At least, that's the idea.

But for this year's World Cup? A US diplomat had a different one!

This brings us to why we talk about football to The World in Arguments, where we take one argument shaping the world and analyze it, so you can understand the world around you better. One argument, one episode at a time.

Let us begin.

Michalis

Some intro, for those who don't know: the 2026 FIFA World Cup begins in June. It will be held across Canada, Mexico, and, of course, the United States.

Ah, the United States; the global x-factor-gone-rogue. Also, the country that picked up a war against Iran.

Iran, to connect the dots on that football intro, qualified for the tournament fair and square. Their players have been preparing for that event. But, of course, they found themselves in a war against the host country, and now there are visa complications for Iranian players and officials trying to travel to the US.

As a disclaimer, I've been resisting making another Trump, Vance, or one of their cronies' arguments for quite a while, given the proximity of the episodes. But one recent feedback we received, on how this show can be useful, was that sometimes you need to see the same trick in a new context to really learn to spot it. And this case is a perfect example.

Anyway, back to football. Into this situation walked Paolo Zampolli. Zampolli is a US Special Envoy for Global Partnerships. He's also, as he made sure to mention to the Financial Times, an Italian native.

On April 23rd, he confirmed to the Financial Times that he had personally suggested to both President Trump and FIFA President Gianni Infantino that Iran should be replaced at the World Cup.

By who? Italy, of course!

Italia!

Italia, which did not qualify — losing their playoff to Bosnia and Herzegovina in the penalty shootout, a crushing defeat for a historical juggernaut of the game, that will be missing the World Cup for the third consecutive time.

Back to Zampolli; in his own words, according to the Financial Times, his argument was as follows.

Michalis

That's the argument.

Michalis

I know it may sound silly; but any argument should justify a degree of steelmanning. Because there is a real issue underneath this proposal, and, depending on the lens you're looking at the argument from, it becomes different things.

Due to the current situation, Iranian players need visas to compete in the US. Some officials traveling with the team may have ties to the IRGC, a sanctioned organization with their own history of human rights abuses. This creates genuine logistical and diplomatic complications for FIFA and the host nation.

A defensible version of this argument might be: given the visa complications and the ongoing conflict, FIFA needs a backup plan, and Italy is the highest-ranked team that failed to qualify.

Maybe, that would be coherent. It's not the argument Zampolli made.

What Zampolli actually argued, in standard argument form, was this:

Michalis

OK, why are we covering this argument? Because it offers us a great opportunity to focus on some logical fallacies.

Today's focus? The Appeal Fallacies.

Michalis

Appeals are an instrumental part of our conversations. When we are discussing anything in our daily lives, we need ways to prove things without having to prove them from the beginning; if we had to, it would be impossible to maintain any conversation.

For example, let's say you go to the doctor because you have difficulty breathing. The doctor examines you, and she gives you medicine to treat it. The doctor doesn't have to justify to you why they give you this specific medicine. You trust them, because they have the relevant expertise. This is a legitimate appeal to authority — and it works.

Now, say that same doctor tried giving you financial advice. When you tried to disagree, however, the doctor then claimed, "Come on, trust me! I am a doctor, after all."

Here, we have an issue with that appeal; we call that fallacy appeal to authority.

Michalis

The doctor attempted to incorrectly use her authority as a doctor to influence someone's decisions. Here, it's a fallacy, because the authority is irrelevant to the argument. Going to medical school does not give you expertise in financial planning. The appeal to authority is only valid when the authority's expertise is relevant to the claim being made.

Michalis

When Zampolli argues for Italy's inclusion, we see two other appeals.

The first one is what we call the appeal to tradition.

Michalis

Zampolli's word for it is "pedigree." Italy has the pedigree. Four titles. And that pedigree, he says, "justifies inclusion."

It is an interesting approach because this argument could become sound depending on the perspective you look at it from.

Let's say you want to maximize profits for the World Cup. Compare Italy to Iran. Italians are more passionate about football than Iranians; they have more purchasing power and no restrictions. The Italian fan base would likely fill more seats, buy more merchandise, generate more broadcast interest. From a purely commercial lens, the appeal to tradition might carry some weight — if that's your premise.

But the appeal to tradition as a justification for replacing a team that qualified on merit? That's a different argument entirely. And it's not the one that should be determinative in a sporting competition.

Let's move to the second appeal.

Zampolli said, and I want to quote this exactly: "It would be a dream."

Michalis

The appeal to emotion is particularly easy to spot when the speaker has an obvious personal stake in the conclusion. And Zampolli made sure we knew his. He told the Financial Times, unprompted, that he was an Italian native.

To be clear: having a personal connection to a topic doesn't automatically invalidate your argument. Love, yes, love, is sometimes seemingly highly irrational, and appeals to emotions are some of the most powerful forces in human decision-making. Emotions are not inherently fallacious; they can point us toward things that matter.

But in most other places, when your personal desire is the argument, when the reason you give is "it would be a dream for me," that's a fallacy. That's just wishful thinking, not policy.

Michalis

What happened next is worth noting, because it's rare: The very people this proposal was meant to benefit immediately rejected it.

Italy's Sports Minister said: "It's not appropriate. You qualify on the pitch."

The National Olympic Committee President said he would be offended. The Economy Minister called it shameful. The national coach said Italy doesn't need Trump's help on something like this.

Even FIFA's own president pushed back: "They have qualified. The players want to play. Sport should be outside politics."

Maybe it's not random why we think of Italians as the ones with the "Finezza"; because that, by itself, was classy.

Sometimes, the clearest sign that an argument has failed is that even the people it's designed to help don't want it. Italy's officials understood intuitively what Zampolli's argument missed. A World Cup that you didn't earn is not the same thing as a World Cup you did.

And maybe that's their, and mine, appeal to emotion. But some things should be of more value.

Some things connect us because of our common values. And that's what makes them worth it.

Michalis

Appeals are important, but it's also important to analyze whether their use is appropriate.

They are all around us; in promotions, in funding decisions, in politics, whenever "we were great once," or "this is what I want," or "I have the experience to know better," or "this is how we have always done it" appears in an argument: ask whether the appeal is doing genuine evidential work, or whether it's quietly replacing a reason you should actually give.

The World Cup case is useful precisely because it's light enough to see clearly. When the stakes are lower, the logic is easier to follow.

And the logic here is simple.

You qualify on the pitch. Or you don't. You don't have World Cups for the profits, and not everything should be about them. Meritocracy. Any other appeals here are fallacious.

We'll follow with more of these appeals in the next episodes, but for now, thank you for listening to another episode of the World in Arguments. If you liked the show, follow it, like it at your platform of choice, or share it. Until the next one.