World Cup Spotlight Highlights United States’ Prosperity

As I touched on briefly in my previous column, the viral fascination with how everyday American abundance astonishes World Cup visitors has taken hold—and for good reason. It seems almost daily that a delighted foreign football fan posts a compliment on social media or speaks to the press about quintessentially “American” traits—unlimited drinks refills, endless chips and salsa, colossal sports arenas, luxurious cars, sprawling homes, ranch dressing, blasting air conditioning, gleaming hospitals, and more—that we often regard as ordinary features of life in the United States. (Buc-ee’s, Costco, and Texas Roadhouse have been especially popular, and for valid reasons.)

These viral notes have charmed American observers and sparked countless media discussions about how the visitors’ innocent—and frequently entertaining—observations can help knit a divided nation and remind locals of just how fortunate we are. In a moment when chatter about the U.S. economy often tilts toward gloom in surveys of public sentiment, this ongoing episode provides a welcome, upbeat counterpoint and a pointed, folk‑libertarian reminder that a country’s capital, its policies, and its political class are not the same as its communities and citizens.

The scenes have also spotlighted several noteworthy economic-policy considerations—some promising, some cautionary—that deserve closer attention.

To begin, the astonishment of relatively affluent visitors—who aren’t spending weeks touring the United States if they were truly destitute—at mid‑income American scenes stands as concrete evidence of our country’s vast everyday wealth. 

The timing is fortunate (and no, I’m not hinting at Europe’s air-conditioning-free heat wave).

As The Economist recently noted, earlier this year Nobel laureate Paul Krugman and several other eminent economists waded into a vigorous online debate about whether Americans’ living standards are truly pulling ahead of those of Europeans. The central dispute centered on how to gauge individuals’ purchasing power in the two regions, with one method signaling a growing wealth gap and another (Krugman’s) suggesting relatively little long-term change. The contrast is visible in the chart below: using a fixed purchasing power parity adjustment yields a downward trajectory for France’s GDP per capita relative to the U.S., while applying a current PPP adjustment shows minimal long-run shift, yielding a distinctly different wealth narrative.

As someone who loves both exploring other countries and returning to the comforts of home, I freely acknowledge my biases in this debate. Still, both sides raise legitimate questions about how we should measure living standards across nations and what precisely should be measured. Overall, the exchange has been brilliantly debate‑worthy and a bit of nerdy fun—certainly entertaining for someone like me.

Yet, as The Economist notes, both sides also seem to concur on a few points: First, Europe is expanding more slowly than America, largely due to the region’s comparatively slower dynamism and productivity gains here. Second, Krugman’s favorable Europe data—along with other sources—indicate Americans enjoy higher average wages and greater disposable income (even after accounting for out-of-pocket healthcare costs) than the typical European in most places (with some exceptions), thanks to superior labor productivity and Europeans’ leisure choices. Third, and perhaps most crucial, both sides rely on an “eye test”—visiting each place and simply observing—that they believe will corroborate their preferred American/European wealth narrative. 

In a humorous twist, thousands of European World Cup visitors—along with visitors from Japan and other countries—actually performed that test within days of the economists’ challenge, and the verdict was decisively in favor of Team America:

There are numerous reasons for outsiders’ astonishment. (A major one, in my view, is that these travelers are seeing parts of Real America, particularly in the Sun Belt and Midwest, that foreign visitors rarely reach, yet—as we’ve discussed here—permit non‑wealthy Americans to live very comfortable lives.) And, to be frank, not all of the wonder is genuine.

But a sizable portion clearly is, and at its core lies the Great American Prosperity Engine. Accept it, critics.

Another compelling and wholesome aspect of the tourists’ U.S. experience has been the outpouring of support they’ve received from ordinary Americans—neighbors, workers, passersby—and from a broad array of American celebrities and companies. Perhaps most famous in this regard has been the German soccer fan Freddy, whose daily escapades in Middle America have earned him a vast online following and an almost Forrest Gump‑like level of in‑kind backing from pro sports teams, hotels, airlines, and a host of famous athletes, entertainers, and politicians (including a governor who volunteered to help Freddy attend Germany’s game in Toronto after a flight problem). Freddy’s story is extraordinary, but the larger point is that a wide spectrum of U.S. businesses, municipalities, and influencers have rolled out the red carpet for these cheerful visitors, enhancing the overall feel‑good experience.

Predictably, some critics have dismissed this as a self-serving ploy to boost sales, brands, and online engagement rather than genuine generosity. Some claims are plainly false, but the legitimate criticisms are hardly a reason to dismiss the broader trend. They echo another lesson from Adam Smith:

Scholars (ahem) often invoke this line to illustrate that self-interested market exchanges among free people can be mutually beneficial and—even in the process—generate social gains and the resources needed for charity. Yet Smith’s famous remark also applies to many “charitable” acts by corporations and celebrities: while perhaps not purely altruistic, these efforts frequently serve as a strategic move to improve long‑term profitability by bolstering brand reputation, attracting customers and workers, and lifting sales.

There’s little reason to view such motive as improper. First, the act still leaves people better off in some way (and often provides entertainment and inspiration for onlookers), so the question of benevolence versus self‑interest may be beside the point. Second, it’s typically impossible to know exactly why these charitable actors chose to help Freddy (or others in need)—it’s usually a blend of sympathy and self‑promotion. On the self‑interest side, see the first point; on the sympathy side, you can read more of Smith’s ideas elsewhere.

Admittedly, the World Cup narrative isn’t all neat and rosy, and there are indeed policy lessons buried beneath the surface. For one thing, this episode underscores the economic and geopolitical value of foreign tourism—and highlights how policy shifts have recently dampened visits to the United States.

As discussed last year, one consequence of Trump’s tariff disputes, deportations, and the broader adversarial posture toward overseas partners has been a form of self‑imposed retaliation against U.S. goods and services by foreign buyers. Tourism—a key U.S. services export—has borne the brunt. A May 2026 Congressional Research Service briefing noted that international arrivals fell in 10 of 12 months during the prior year, with increases only before Trump took office (January) and due to an unusually late Easter (April):

This decline affected many American firms and likely trimmed U.S. growth by billions last year:

On the brighter side, CRS notes that the World Cup could lift foreign visits and GDP growth in 2026, and from the looks of packed bars and restaurants, along with steep prices for game tickets, airline fares, and hotel rooms, it’s not hard to believe. Even with a few visa glitches, the month‑long event has proceeded smoothly so far and is expected to attract nearly 1.25 million international travelers, each likely to spend over $5,000. That’s not to erase the roughly $12.5 billion in lost international visitor spending forecast for 2025 by WTTC, but it signals a favorable rebound for smaller American businesses that rely heavily on foreign tourism.

The global mood surrounding the World Cup in 2026 also serves as a vivid, real-time reminder that U.S. tourism can be a market-based form of soft power, boosting America’s image abroad and supporting U.S. geopolitical aims without new taxpayer outlays (or actions far worse than that). Scholars refer to this as the “contact hypothesis”—the idea that face‑to‑face encounters can alter foreign perceptions in ways no government messaging or aid can replicate. The enthusiastic reception of American staples by World Cup visitors acts as soft power in largely organic form, with American hospitality and abundance doing diplomatic work that government actors often cannot or will not perform.

To be clear, the goodwill earned by Americans at places like Waffle House, Bass Pro Shops, Fenway Park—including the people who live and work near these icons—doesn’t automatically translate into durable changes in foreign opinions about U.S. policy. But at a moment when the country’s global standing has taken a few hits, having a million-plus visitors return home as informal ambassadors is a welcome development, reminding the world that the Oval Office’s pronouncements do not define a 350 million‑person nation. 

The real question is whether this tourism boost and the accompanying good vibes can endure after the World Cup concludes. Regrettably, the answer may not reside in Costco’s hands.

In this sense, all the positive energy also underscores one way trade can promote peace. As I summarized in a 2020 paper, a broad body of research finds that higher foreign trade can meaningfully reduce the likelihood of armed conflict between nations through several channels: 

Recent research reinforces these conclusions. One study identifies a strong “peace dividend” from trade—roughly a 30% drop in the chance of militarized conflict when bilateral trade doubles. In another, a survey of nearly 2,000 Japanese firms shows they consistently pushed for diplomatic solutions to supply‑chain disruptions involving allies and rivals alike—lending support to the idea of “commercial peace,” in which global business interests oppose wars that could jeopardize their facilities or customers. 

Regardless of the mechanism, the takeaway is clear: while economic integration can’t erase all conflicts, policies that liberalize trade tend to make peaceful outcomes more likely—especially when contrasted with today’s more isolationist, adversarial U.S. stance.

In their own modest but viral way, the million‑plus foreigners buzzing in American bars are underscoring a related point.

The lightly regulated U.S. beer landscape proves to be a surprising wellspring of innovation, with the latest example described in a recent Food & Wine piece detailing how a group of capital‑minded beer enthusiasts have applied science and math to craft light beer that actually tastes good… and yes, it’s a real thing.

I’ve long admired the underlying intent of Brexit, but ten years in, the execution has left much to be desired (to put it mildly).

Yes, adjust for living costs, but… wow, Raleigh.

“Back in December 2025, The Athletic surveyed 120 NHL players, and 86.3% said income tax mattered when choosing where to play.”