Ontario's 2019 ticket resale deregulation fuels World Cup pricing crisis

If we're viewing major events as luxury goods, that really says something.
An expert on consumer protection warns that unlimited resale markups are transforming who gets to experience shared cultural moments.

In the years since Ontario quietly removed its cap on ticket resale markups, the consequences have arrived in vivid form: seats to the 2026 FIFA World Cup in Toronto now trade on secondary markets for sums that place them beyond the reach of most families. What was once a modest regulatory brake on speculation has become, in its absence, a mechanism that transforms shared cultural moments into luxury commodities. The province is watching other jurisdictions move toward reform, but for now, the question of who gets to belong to a city's great occasions is being answered by the highest bidder.

  • World Cup tickets that FIFA priced at $2,500 are appearing on resale platforms for $2,000 to $80,000, turning a once-in-a-generation civic event into a financial instrument.
  • Ontario's 2019 repeal of its 50% resale cap unleashed unlimited markups, and platforms like StubHub now operate without any ceiling on what they can extract from fans.
  • Experts warn this isn't merely inconvenience — when cultural events become accessible only to the wealthy, they cease to be shared experiences and begin to define who belongs in public life.
  • Premier Ford publicly called resale pricing 'gouging' after Blue Jays playoff tickets exploded in cost, and the province has acknowledged it may need to legislate — but has not yet acted.
  • Quebec and the United Kingdom are drafting concrete caps and outright resale bans, creating legislative precedent that Ontario is watching from the sidelines as summer 2026 approaches.

Aidan D'Souza had fifteen minutes to secure three hospitality tickets to a Toronto World Cup match — $2,500 each, steep but certain. He moved fast, knowing this might be the only World Cup the city sees in a lifetime. For everyone who missed that window, the resale market was waiting.

What fans found there was staggering. Seats that FIFA had priced in the hundreds or low thousands were listed on StubHub for $2,000 at minimum, sometimes reaching $80,000. The secondary market had effectively become the primary one, governed not by FIFA's pricing but by whatever speculation would bear.

Ontario created the conditions for this in 2019, when Doug Ford's government repealed a law that had capped resale markups at fifty percent above face value. The change handed platforms like StubHub, Ticketmaster, and SeatGeek unlimited pricing power. The World Cup is now the most visible consequence.

Vass Bednar of the Canadian SHIELD Institute frames the stakes in cultural terms: when major events become accessible only to the highest bidder, they stop functioning as shared experiences and become luxury goods. The logic of paying for a memory — priceless, therefore unchallengeable — quietly excludes ordinary fans from the life of their own city.

Ford himself called resale pricing 'gouging' after Blue Jays playoff tickets spiked, and his government has since acknowledged it is reviewing 'potential issues regarding ticket sales.' But acknowledgment has not yet become action. Quebec has proposed capping resale at face value; the UK is considering an outright ban. Ontario is watching.

Fans still hoping to attend the World Cup face a narrow path: a random selection draw open until January 13, limited reduced-price allocations through national soccer federations, and FIFA's own resale platform — which takes a fifteen percent cut. The government has signaled openness to revisiting the 2019 deregulation, but for now the market remains uncapped, and the World Cup in Toronto belongs, in practice, to those who can afford to claim it.

The email arrived a week before the official draw. Aidan D'Souza and his family had a narrow window—fifteen minutes to enter their payment details before FIFA's system would bump the price higher. They were buying hospitality tickets to one of six World Cup matches coming to Toronto next summer, and the clock was moving. D'Souza got them secured. Three tickets. Twenty-five hundred dollars each. He knew it was steep, but he also knew something else: this might be the only World Cup Toronto sees in a lifetime.

For everyone else, there's the resale market. And the resale market is brutal.

When FIFA released tickets for Toronto's matches, they sold out almost as fast as the system could process orders. What remained—what most fans would actually encounter if they wanted to attend—lived on platforms like StubHub, where the same seats were listed for two thousand dollars minimum, sometimes eighty thousand. The secondary market had become the primary market, and the prices reflected a calculation that had nothing to do with what FIFA originally charged.

This wasn't always the case in Ontario. Until 2019, the province had a law capping resale markups at fifty percent above face value. It was a modest brake on speculation, a way to keep major events from becoming purely financial instruments. Then Doug Ford's government removed it. Ticketmaster, StubHub, SeatGeek—suddenly these platforms could charge whatever the market would bear. And the market, it turned out, would bear a lot.

Vass Bednar, managing director of the Canadian SHIELD Institute, sees the shift as something deeper than inconvenience. When major cultural events become accessible only to the highest bidder, he argues, it changes what those events mean to society. They stop being shared experiences and become luxury goods. D'Souza's comment about paying for an experience captures the logic: you're not buying a seat, you're buying a memory, and memories are priceless. But that philosophy, Bednar says, creates a fundamentally inaccessible experience for ordinary fans. It says something about who gets to participate in the culture of a city.

Ford himself seemed to have second thoughts. In October, after Blue Jays World Series tickets sold out and resale prices exploded, he called it gouging. "We have one player in the market that controls the tickets, that's not right for the people," he said. Both the NDP and Liberals pushed him to act. A Ministry of Public and Business Services spokesperson acknowledged the province is looking at "potential issues regarding ticket sales" and suggested legislation might follow if needed.

Other jurisdictions are moving faster. Quebec has proposed legislation capping resale prices at the original asking price unless the event producer explicitly allows higher markups. The United Kingdom is considering an outright ban on reselling above face value. Ontario, for now, is watching and waiting.

For fans trying to actually attend the World Cup, the paths are narrow and complicated. FIFA's hospitality tickets come with food and drink but require quick action and deep pockets. There's a random selection draw open until January 13, with selections announced in February and automatic credit card charges. Whatever remains after that sells first-come, first-serve. FIFA recently reduced prices on some tickets after global backlash, but those allocations are limited and distributed through national soccer federations. FIFA does operate its own resale marketplace, though it takes a fifteen percent cut.

The question hanging over all of this is whether Ontario will reverse course before next summer. The government has signaled openness to reviewing the 2019 decision. But for now, the resale market remains unregulated, and the experience of watching the World Cup in Toronto has become something only certain people can afford.

We needed to act really quick when getting the tickets because FIFA was actually increasing the price as the day went on.
— Aidan D'Souza, World Cup ticket buyer
My personal opinion … they're gouging the people. We have one player in the market that controls the tickets, that's not right for the people.
— Doug Ford, Ontario Premier, on ticket resale markups
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Inventor

Why did Ontario remove that fifty percent cap in the first place? What was the reasoning?

Model

The source doesn't say. It was a 2019 decision under Ford, but the actual justification isn't explained. It's one of those policy moves that gets made and then, years later, people wonder why.

Inventor

And D'Souza paid twenty-five hundred per ticket. Did he resell them, or is he actually going?

Model

The article doesn't say. He secured them, he was happy about it, but we don't know if he's keeping them or if he's part of the resale chain himself.

Inventor

So the resale market is the problem, but FIFA also takes a cut when people use their official resale platform.

Model

Right. Fifteen percent. So even the "official" secondary market is extracting value. It's not a solution—it's just a slightly less aggressive version of the same thing.

Inventor

What would actually fix this? Is there a model that works?

Model

Quebec's proposal is interesting—cap it at face value unless the producer says otherwise. The UK is considering an outright ban. But those are still proposals. Ontario is still in the "looking at it" phase.

Inventor

And the World Cup is next summer.

Model

Yes. So the window to actually change anything is closing fast.

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