World Cup and Cold War Times

Dear all,

We welcome you to the Greater Caribbean Monitor (GCaM).

The Wolrd Cup has completely taken over the United States, which is living a very underrated type of geopolitical strategy: a massive-entertainment power display. This same summer, the story-telling is uncanny. The Knicks win the NBA again, an American defeats an undefeated Spanish UFC Champions in the White House lawn, and the country hosts a spectacular World Cup so far. All while almost 75% of the world (around 5 billion people) have their eyes on a nonstop broadcast of America. A very interesting to tell the world that the United States is well, powerful, and mighty, all during the year of the 250 anniversary. Do not underestimate the power of this display.

In the meantime, Cuba is showing some good signals in the American agenda, opening up the country gradually in an attempt to avoid Trump’s wrath, which Maduro could not avoid. Whether this will be structural or last over time remains to be seen. We are particularly skeptical, but one can never rule it out… nor can an intervention can be ruled out either. Perhaps, things will have to wait until after this summer, so all the media focus remains in that spectacular power display going on in the homeland.

On the other side of the World Cup hosts, a different story emerges. While Mexico has been disparaged due to their lack of preparation, bad news keep piling up. Now, Sheinbaum is facing another issue: Russian spies seem to have targeted the country as a hub for intelligence operations. I am sure the tense relationship between Sheinbaum and Trump do not need another backlash, especially not one that involves the country being host to both the World Cup and Russian psyops simultaneously.

Either way, keep enjoying the beautiful game, but remember, geopolitics are everywhere in a globalized sport, and the World Cup is no exception.

In this issue, you will find:

• Mexico’s Russian Spies: Moscow’s Backdoor into North America

• Choked Opening: Havana’s Forced Free-Market Capitulation

• The Geopolitics of the World Cup: Why Nations Still Fight to Host It

As always, please feel free to share GCaM with your friends and colleagues. We all, at the GCaM team, wish you a good weekend.

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Mexico has become the center of a growing security debate in Washington after new reports revived allegations that Russia is using the country as its primary intelligence platform in North America.

In perspective. What began as concerns over diplomatic staffing has evolved into a broader discussion about migration routes, organized crime, and the strategic competition between the United States and its geopolitical rivals. The controversy stems from an investigation of TV Azteca, which claimed that Russia significantly expanded its diplomatic presence in Mexico following the invasion of Ukraine. According to US security officials, many of these personnel may be intelligence operatives working under diplomatic cover rather than traditional diplomats. While Mexican authorities have consistently rejected such accusations, the issue has returned to the spotlight amid renewed scrutiny of foreign influence operations throughout the hemisphere.

• The concern is not entirely new. In 2022, US Northern Command chief General Glen VanHerck publicly stated that Mexico hosted more Russian military intelligence officers than any other country in the world.

• At the time, the claim generated diplomatic friction between Washington and Mexico City. Four years later, American security officials continue to stand by that assessment. The numbers help explain why. Reports indicate that Russian diplomatic personnel in Mexico increased substantially after the outbreak of the Russo-Ukrainian War.

• During the same period, roughly 160,000 Russian nationals entered Mexico, with tens of thousands later crossing into the United States through irregular migration routes. American officials argue that such flows create ideal conditions for intelligence services seeking to conceal personnel movements.

How it works. The geopolitical significance of Mexico lies less in its relationship with Russia and more in its geography. Unlike Cuba or Venezuela, Mexico shares a nearly 3,200-kilometer border with the United States, hosts some of the busiest migration corridors in the world, and contains extensive criminal networks already operating across international boundaries. For intelligence agencies, these conditions offer opportunities that are difficult to replicate elsewhere in the hemisphere.

• Migration routes can provide cover for personnel movements; criminal organizations can facilitate logistics, and the volume of legitimate cross-border commerce creates an environment where illicit activities are harder to detect.

• Several incidents have reinforced these concerns. Among them is the detention of Timur Praliev, a former Wagner Group member who crossed into Texas after entering through Mexico.

• Although no evidence has publicly linked him to intelligence operations, the case highlighted the growing overlap between migration flows and broader security concerns.

Between the lines. The larger issue may not be the espionage itself. Intelligence gathering between major powers is hardly unusual. What concerns many policymakers in Washington is the possibility that Mexico could become a platform for influence operations directed at both the United States and Latin America. Russia has spent years expanding Spanish-language media networks, digital influence campaigns, and information operations throughout the region. Operating from Mexico would provide proximity to American audiences while simultaneously offering access to the broader Spanish-speaking world.

• This perception is becoming increasingly influential in Washington. A growing number of policymakers no longer view Mexico exclusively through the lens of migration or narcotics trafficking.

• Instead, they see a broader security environment where organized crime, foreign intelligence services, and geopolitical competitors intersect.

• That distinction matters because it changes the policy response. Migration is generally treated as a domestic management challenge, but national security threats are treated very differently.

Why it matters. What is not debatable is that the narrative itself is gaining traction inside the United States. The possibility of Russia using Mexico as a plattform to disseminate Russian narratives in Latin America, exploit anti-American sentiment, amplify political polarization, and weaken support for U.S. policies regarding Ukraine is a big concern for a country already linked to human and drug trafficking, cartel violence, and Chinese influence. It is a cocktail for everything that concerns Washington, right across their southern border.

• For decades, Cuba and Venezuela occupied the center of Washington’s security concerns in Latin America. Increasingly, however, attention is shifting toward Mexico.

• If American policymakers come to view the country as a permissive environment for Russian influence operations, Chinese strategic investments, and transnational criminal networks simultaneously, the consequences could be profound, especially for an ideologically adverse government.

• The result would not simply be a more confrontational bilateral relationship. It would represent a fundamental redefinition of Mexico’s place in US strategic thinking—from a difficult partner to a frontline national security concern.

The Cuban National Assembly’s recent passage of nearly 200 unprecedented free-market reforms marks the most radical structural shift on the island since the 1959 revolution. This sudden dismantling of long-held Marxist pillars is not a voluntary ideological evolution, but a desperate defensive maneuver to stave off total economic collapse.

• Driven to the brink by structural paralysis and a punishing external strategy, Havana has been forced to permit private banking, foreign equity in state assets, and direct private imports.

In perspective. The immediate spark for this legislative capitulation lies in the compounding effect of the US energy blockade and the expansion of secondary sanctions under Executive Order 14404. By targeting foreign financial institutions that clear transactions for GAESA—the military-run conglomerate controlling the vast majority of Cuba’s commercial economy—Washington has effectively severed the island’s remaining links to the global financial system. This financial asphyxiation, paired with a relentless oil embargo, has completely starved the regime of hard currency and fuel, transforming market liberalization from an ideological heresy into an existential necessity.

• The severe energy blockade has induced rolling 20-hour power cuts, paralyzing domestic production, rotting scarce food supplies, and pushing social stability to its absolute limit.

• Extending secondary sanctions to non-US banks dealing with GAESA has systematically frozen the military’s dollar-generating architecture and disrupted critical import-export pipelines.

• Faced with an imminent threat to regime survival, the ruling elite has abandoned its state monopoly on foreign trade, using free-market concessions as an emergency release valve for sovereign risk.

How it works. The historic package of 176 economic measures dismantles the foundational tenets of the command economy by shifting resource allocation from bureaucratic planning to market mechanisms. By legalizing a private banking system, authorizing direct foreign and domestic equity participation in state enterprises, and allowing private entities to bypass state import-export monopolies, the reforms fundamentally restructure the island’s commercial architecture. Crucially, this legal shift creates a decentralized parallel economy that actively undercuts GAESA’s historical chokehold on capital flows and supply chains, diluting the military’s corporate hegemony out of pure regime-survival logic.

• Allowing private enterprises to conduct direct foreign trade and establishing private banks breaks the state’s exclusive grip on financial mediation, creating independent import pipelines.

• Transforming state entities into commercial ventures open to foreign and diaspora capital redefines property relations and strips the military monolith of unhedged asset ownership.

• A new real-time digital foreign exchange market and relaxed labor caps route liquidity directly into private networks, systematically debilitating GAESA’s traditional dollar-extraction mechanisms.

Geopolitical Ceiling. Geopolitical risk ultimately dictates the absolute limits of Cuba’s market liberalization, as the pervasive architecture of US sanctions heavily discourages the foreign direct investment required to recapitalize the island. Unlike the highly orchestrated transitions of China’s Gaige Kaifang (Opening Up) or Vietnam’s Doi Moi (Renovation)—which were ideologically planned, state-directed, and insulated by favorable global environments—Havana’s sudden pivot is an ad hoc emergency response to imminent insolvency. This profound lack of structural and institutional preparation, combined with the omnipresent threat of US financial pressure, casts severe doubt on the regime’s capacity to manage these systemic changes.

• Deep-seated US primary and secondary sanctions trigger widespread banking overcompliance, causing international investors to flee Cuban markets to avoid financial penalties.

• While the Chinese and Vietnamese models relied on decades of deliberate legal sequencing and macroeconomic stability to attract global manufacturing, Cuba’s reforms are chaotic concessions born of structural ruin.

• Devoid of an independent judiciary, a stable monetary framework, or clear property rights, the domestic market cannot generate enough internal momentum to bypass the external blockade.

In conclusion. Cuba’s unprecedented constitutional shift reflects a desperate bid for regime survival rather than a coherent transition to sustainable state capitalism. While the dismantling of trade monopolies and the introduction of private banking dilute GAESA’s absolute economic leverage, the omnipresent shadow of US sanctions will continue to starve the island of critical foreign capital.

• Lacking the institutional sequencing and structural preparedness that guaranteed the success of the Asian models, Havana faces a highly volatile transition marked by systemic paralysis and legal uncertainty.

• Ultimately, these reforms risk fracturing the traditional command economy without establishing a stable market alternative, leaving the island trapped in a high-risk economic limbo.

When FIFA awarded the 1994 World Cup to the United States, the decision seemed absurd.

The most powerful country on Earth had just secured the most important tournament in the world’s most popular sport, despite the fact that most Americans barely paid attention to it. The country’s professional league had disappeared only a few years earlier, soccer occupied a marginal position behind football, baseball, and basketball, and millions of Americans did not even use the word football to describe the sport that brings much of the planet to a halt every four years.

For most Americans, FIFA meant little. Yet that decision ended up changing the history of the World Cup. Thirty-two years later, the tournament returns to the United States for the 2026 edition, the first with 48 teams and the largest World Cup ever organized. In many ways, very little has changed. For the average American, the NBA Finals or a UFC event at the White House still generate more interest than an Iran-New Zealand group-stage match, and most people still call it soccer.

At first glance, the choice makes perfect sense. The United States offers gigantic stadiums, modern infrastructure, vast hotel capacity, and the most powerful advertising market in the world.

But behind that decision lies a far more interesting story. One that helps answer a question that has followed the World Cup for decades: if hosting a World Cup is rarely profitable, why do countries continue fighting so hard to organize one? The answer is that the World Cup was never just a business.

Football as Soft Power

For much of the twentieth century and well into the twenty-first, the World Cup became an instrument of national prestige. Mexico understood this early.

When it secured the 1970 tournament after defeating Argentina in FIFA’s vote, the Mexican government was not purchasing a sporting event. It was investing in a national narrative. As we discussed last week, the country was experiencing the height of the so-called Mexican Miracle and sought to project itself as a modern, stable nation capable of competing with the world’s industrial powers. The 1970 World Cup and the 1968 Olympic Games formed part of the same international branding strategy.

The tournament was a success. It also established a pattern that would follow FIFA for decades: World Cups could be used to build national reputations. The same logic reappeared in 1986.

The story behind that tournament demonstrates that hosting rights have never been purely about sport. Mexico possessed the infrastructure and organizational experience, but it also enjoyed privileged relationships inside FIFA. The close ties between João Havelange, then president of the organization, and influential figures in Mexican football and television helped tilt the balance. Mexico regained the tournament because it offered stadiums and organizational capacity, but also because it occupied a privileged position within FIFA’s power networks.

The United States, which had also competed for the 1986 tournament, paid close attention. That defeat convinced American soccer officials that football could become a strategic asset. Two years later, they secured the rights to host the 1994 World Cup. The decision surprised many observers. The United States was not a football country. Yet FIFA had begun to understand something more important: the future of the tournament depended less on passion than on markets.

A Bet That Paid Off

The 1994 World Cup broke attendance records. More than 3.5 million spectators attended matches. Television audiences were enormous and the tournament’s legacy included the creation of Major League Soccer. More importantly, it confirmed a new reality. The World Cup could thrive even in places where football was not central to national culture. At the same time, however, another trend emerged.

As FIFA discovered the commercial potential of new markets, the cost of hosting a World Cup began to soar. Advocates promised economic growth, tourism, jobs, and investment. Yet studies such as The Quest for the Cup (Baade and Matheson, 2004) and Circus Maximus (Zimbalist, 2015) found that the actual economic benefits often fell well short of initial projections.

South Africa spent roughly USD 4 billion to host the 2010 tournament, and several stadiums later became underutilized. Brazil faced massive protests during the 2014 World Cup after spending approximately USD 11.6 billion on infrastructure. Russia invested more than USD 14 billion to organize the 2018 edition. Qatar took the trend to another level altogether, spending an estimated USD 220 billion on the 2022 World Cup, much of it to build football infrastructure from scratch. The tournament generated roughly USD 1.56 billion in economic activity, leaving an enormous gap between costs and returns.

The question therefore remains: if the economic payoff is so uncertain, why do countries continue competing to host?

Economic Losses, Political Gains

Because states do not pursue profits alone. They pursue prestige. A World Cup allows countries to project an image of modernity, stability, organizational competence, and international influence. For emerging powers, it offers an opportunity to redefine how the world sees them. For others, it serves as an instrument of foreign policy. In many cases, the political and symbolic value far exceeds any financial calculation.

That is why the tournament has survived decades of criticism about its costs. For many people, South Africa was a country they knew little about beyond apartheid. In 2010, the world learned to say Bafana Bafana. Russia welcomed more than five million visitors in a single month. Qatar, a nation of only three million people, hosted roughly one million visitors during the tournament and enjoyed global visibility that would otherwise have been impossible to purchase.

That is what makes 2026 so interesting. Unlike Qatar, Russia, or even Mexico in 1970, the United States does not need to prove it is a power. It does not need to build a national brand. It does not even need to justify major infrastructure spending. Most of the stadiums, airports, highways, and hotels already exist.

What North America offers is something different: massive scale, virtually limitless consumption, enormous audiences, and sponsorship opportunities everywhere. It is the least football-obsessed country capable of delivering the biggest football spectacle on Earth. The joint bid from the United States, Mexico, and Canada did not win because it promised to transform the region. It won because it offered FIFA the lowest risk and the highest revenue potential.

That is the key difference between 1994 and 2026. Three decades ago, FIFA came to the United States to conquer a market. Today it returns because that market has already been conquered. Meanwhile, the United States receives a substantial political dividend. For one month, attention shifts away from Iran, Israel, Venezuela, Cuba, and high gasoline prices. During that same month, expensive tickets, overpriced merchandise, and astronomical transportation costs become part of the World Cup experience rather than objects of public frustration.

As the United States celebrates its 250th anniversary, many of its domestic problems temporarily fade from view. To much of the world, only one thing matters: the tournament that roughly three-quarters of humanity has been waiting four years to watch. Perhaps that is the clearest illustration of how modern football has changed.

For decades, the World Cup traveled the globe looking for countries that needed to prove something. In 2026, it arrives in a region that no longer needs to prove anything about itself. What it seeks now is something much simpler: to maximize the global business of the world’s most popular sport.