In What Money Can’t Buy, his 2012 critique of a world where everything is for sale, Michael Sandel laments what he calls “the skyboxification of American life”. Price gouging and profiteering, Mr Sandel notes, can exclude millions from communal experiences that should unite people, rather than divide them according to the size of their wallets. That is “not good for democracy, nor is it a satisfying way to live”.

Ahead of the men’s World Cup in the United States, Canada and Mexico next month, millions of football fans would readily agree with the Harvard philosopher. Gianni Infantino, the president of the sport’s global governing body, Fifa, has predicted that this summer’s tournament will be the “greatest and most inclusive … ever”. But the lead-up has been overshadowed by a ticketing strategy that is almost surreally indifferent to the battered traditions of “the people’s game”.

In the latest phase of an opaque, manipulative process, Fifa has tripled the price of some of the best seats for the World Cup final in New Jersey to $32,970 (for the 2022 final in Qatar, top whack was about $1,600). On Fifa’s Resale/Exchange Marketplace, tickets for the final have ranged from $8,970 to a laughable $11,499,998.85. For the US’s opening group game against Paraguay in Los Angeles, the cheapest tickets initially offered were priced at $1,200. Even Donald Trump worried that might be too much for ordinary Americans to afford.

A dynamic pricing system means that a few tickets may become cheaper closer to the tournament. Many are likely to become still more expensive. These are ridiculous, exploitative prices that undermine the integrity of the world’s most avidly followed sporting event. To add insult to financial injury, fans who bought early at prohibitive cost are discovering that the goalposts have now moved, as seats with the best views are hived off for even more lucrative hospitality packages.

Factor in accommodation and transport costs for travelling fans, and it is clear that access to the most monetised World Cup in history has been priced way beyond the means of most football lovers. But Mr Infantino has remained blithely dismissive in the face of the groundswell of protest, noting merely that the competition is being staged in a “market in which entertainment is the most developed in the world. So we have to apply market rates.”

This is self-serving nonsense. It is difficult to take anything Fifa’s president says seriously after his decision to award a peace prize to Mr Trump. But such words betray a dismaying inability to consider wider responsibilities beyond a dollar‑denominated bottom line. The best World Cups have been sporting and cultural festivals, enriched by the presence of passionate supporters from host cities and around the world. Only those with impressively deep pockets will be able to maintain that tradition in June and July.

In his book, Mr Sandel writes: “The more things money can buy, the fewer the occasions when people from different walks of life encounter each other.” Next month, Mr Infantino will no doubt be waxing lyrical about the ability of the World Cup to bring people together and cross divides. Pious talk of inclusivity will ring very hollow if only the well-off can enter a stadium to actually watch a game.