December 18, 2022, Qatar’s National Day, Lusail Stadium pulsed with energy as Argentina and France clashed in that year’s World Cup final. An estimated 1.42 billion viewers around the world watched the drama unfold. The teams traded six goals in a thriller that ended 3–3 before Argentina prevailed in a penalty shootout. For Qatar, this night was a triumphant debut on the world stage.
After the confetti settled, Qatar was left with the colossal infrastructure built for the tournament. Over 12 years, the country invested an estimated $220 billion in new projects, including $6.5 billion on new stadiums. The result was eight stadiums, about 426,000 seats, far more than a country of 3 million can fill.
To prevent empty arenas, organizers vowed an ambitious post-tournament plan. The Supreme Committee for Delivery & Legacy promised “innovative legacy plans” to avoid any white elephant stadiums. The phrase “white elephant” refers to something whose cost of upkeep is not in line with its usefulness or value. Some venues would be dismantled or downsized, and others would be converted into community hubs, hotels, or malls. For example, Stadium 974, built from intermodal shipping containers, would be disassembled and shipped abroad for reuse.
Yet months after the World Cup, those plans had barely begun. Stadium 974 remained intact and many venues sat idle. At Ahmad bin Ali Stadium, a skeleton crew of workers tended an almost empty facility. A few sites hosted token events, one match drew only 16,000 fans in a 40,000-seat arena, but there were no signs of major repurposing. Lusail Stadium, though immaculate, had no new events scheduled and no clear timeline for its transformation. The promised “legacy” has so far been slow to materialize.
Qatar’s dilemma is not unique. Brazil’s 2014 World Cup saw almost $4 billion spent on 12 stadiums, and afterward several became underused burdens. Brasilia’s Mané Garrincha Stadium, a $550 million showpiece, later drew only 400 spectators for a domestic match. Recife’s 46,000-seat Arena Pernambuco was built in a city with no top-division team to use it.
Russia’s 2018 World Cup had a similar outcome. Russia spent about $10.8 billion on tournament infrastructure. Today only 8 of the 12 Russian World Cup stadiums see regular top-tier games, often half-empty. These facilities rely on subsidies and occasional events to stay open.
Olympic events are no different. Tokyo 2020 shows how poor legacy planning can haunt a host in 2021. Japan spent about $15 billion on the 2020 Summer Olympics, including $1.4 billion on a new National Stadium, which then held events with no spectators due to the pandemic. After the Olympics, Tokyo sold the stadium’s operating rights for 30 years, recouping only about 25 percent of its construction cost. The city is now left with that stadium, a $520 million aquatic center, and other venues searching for post-Olympic purpose.
Across these cases, the message is clear. Without strong legacy planning, major sports event infrastructure can become a liability. Empty or underutilized stadiums drain public finances and waste urban land long after the cheers have faded.
The United States, along with co-hosts Canada and Mexico, has a chance to do things differently. The 2026 World Cup is already structured to avoid Qatar’s pitfalls. Rather than building new arenas, the North American bid is using existing stadiums in major cities, a strategy FIFA has praised. Indeed, 2026 organizers confirm no new stadiums are needed for the World Cup. Every game will be in an existing, already busy venue. This greatly limits the risk of white elephants. Host cities already have teams and events to keep these stadiums busy year-round.
Los Angeles, the host of the 2028 Olympics, is following a similar playbook. The city of Los Angeles will lean on its wealth of existing sports facilities, including NFL football stadiums, NBA basketball arenas, and other college venues, and deploy temporary sites rather than erecting permanent new ones.
Beyond these advantages, U.S. organizers can adopt further strategies to ensure a lasting legacy. For example, instead of enlarging stadiums or building extra venues for short-term crowds, organizers can shift towards creating fan parks and live viewing areas for overflow spectators. This approach preserves the festival atmosphere without leaving behind an oversized arena that won’t be needed later.
Better planning can keep venues open after temporary events are over. Stadiums can be designed for partial deconstruction or conversion into smaller facilities, community sports centers, or mixed-use complexes. In theory, Qatar’s Stadium 974, which was built with intermodal shipping containers and supposed to be taken apart after the World Cup, is fascinating solution, even if it did not work in practice. Such temporary designs let host cities add capacity for the event and then remove it afterward, preventing permanent and unneeded infrastructure.
With foresight and “designing the legacy” from day one, the World Cup in 2026 and the Summer Olympics in 2028 can avoid white elephants and deliver lasting benefits in the United States. If event organizers follow through on these plans, North America’s World Cup and Los Angeles’s Olympics could set a new standard. Not just for spectacular sports entertainment, but for sustainable infrastructure that serves the community long after the final whistle.
Written by Minxing Liu, Public Policy Intern
The Alliance for Innovation and Infrastructure (Aii) is an independent, national research and educational organization working to advance innovation across industry and public policy. The only nationwide public policy think tank dedicated to infrastructure, Aii explores the intersection of economics, law, and public policy in the areas of climate, damage prevention, eminent domain, energy, infrastructure, innovation, technology, and transportation.