VAR's Expanding Role Threatens Football's Soul, Experts Warn

VAR has robbed football of its joy
German fan groups' message in their August campaign calling for the technology to be removed from the sport.
Mark

So VAR was supposed to fix obvious mistakes, but now it's making decisions on things like corner kicks and second yellow cards. How did that happen?

Mimi

It's the natural arc of any technology that works. Once you prove it can do something well, the pressure builds to use it for more. Semi-automated offside technology improved precision, and that success created an expectation that technology should deliver perfection everywhere.

Luke

But we should be careful here—the source doesn't say VAR itself is making those decisions on corners and yellows. It says German officials confirmed VAR will "have a say" in them. That's different from VAR deciding. The human referee still decides; VAR just inputs information.

Mimi

True, but the effect is the same from a fan's perspective. The game stops. You wait. The flow breaks. Whether a human or a machine makes the final call, the experience of constant review is what people are objecting to.

Mark

And that's why German fan groups launched a campaign in August? They want it gone entirely?

Mimi

Yes. Their message was direct: VAR has robbed football of its joy. They want the cameras put away. What makes this significant is that German fans aren't just complaining—many are club members with actual governance influence.

Luke

Though we should note the source doesn't say how many fans support this, or how organized the campaign actually was beyond being "coordinated." It's a real movement, but we don't have numbers on its size.

Mark

What's the alternative? Can you actually run professional football without video review?

Mimi

They're trialing something called Football Video Support—basically challenge cards, like in American football. Coaches request reviews instead of officials initiating them constantly. It reduces interruption.

Luke

But the source hints it's being seen as a cheaper option rather than a genuine replacement. That suggests the sport might adopt it for budget reasons, not because it solves the underlying problem.

Mark

Which is what, exactly?

Mimi

That technology has moved from supporting human judgment to replacing it. A referee used to make a call and own it. Now the referee waits for the machine to confirm. The human is no longer in charge—they're executing what the technology recommends.

Luke

The expert does say human referees are still needed for interpretation and nuance. So it's not quite replacement yet. But the direction is clear.

  • VAR, designed as a corrective backstop for referees, has quietly expanded into a parallel decision-making authority that can halt matches for minutes while cameras parse slow-motion angles.
  • The World Cup this past summer made the fracture undeniable — fluid, fast football splintered into intervals of uncertainty, and the frustration that had simmered for years boiled into open protest.
  • German fan groups, wielding genuine club membership influence rather than mere social media noise, launched a coordinated August campaign demanding VAR be removed from the sport entirely.
  • Football's governing voices are pushing back with calls for refinement over removal, while researchers warn that the real danger is expecting technology to resolve decisions that still require human interpretation of intent and context.
  • A trial of challenge cards at the U20 World Cup offers one possible path — returning initiative to coaches and reducing constant interruption — though critics see it as a workaround rather than a reckoning.

A decade after its introduction, the video assistant referee has grown from a safety net into a parallel authority, reshaping the rhythm and soul of football in ways its architects never intended. Across Europe and beyond, the tension between precision and joy has surfaced a deeper question that transcends sport: when a tool proves capable, does society possess the wisdom to keep it in its proper place? The debate unfolding in German stadiums and boardrooms is, at its heart, a meditation on human judgment, institutional inertia, and the seductive pull of technological certainty.

Ten years into its use, the video assistant referee has become football's most contested technology — not because it fails, but because it keeps succeeding into territory it was never meant to occupy.

When the International Football Association Board first approved VAR, the mandate was narrow: catch the obvious errors human referees might miss, while keeping those referees in charge. It was meant to be a safety net, not the net itself. But each season brought new applications — AI-assisted offside calls, handball decisions, penalty area fouls — until a corrective tool became a parallel system capable of stopping play for minutes at a time.

The World Cup this past summer made the tension impossible to ignore. Matches fractured into intervals of technical review. By mid-September, as domestic seasons resumed, the complaints had grown louder. In Germany, organized fan groups launched a coordinated campaign demanding VAR be removed entirely. Their argument was direct: the technology had robbed football of its joy. These were not passive consumers venting frustration — many hold club memberships that grant real governance influence, making their challenge a structural one.

Jochen Drees, who heads VAR operations in Germany, called for refinement rather than removal. Susmit Gulavani, an assistant professor of AI and machine learning in sport at the University of South Carolina, recognized the response as a familiar institutional pattern: once a technology proves capable, the impulse is to expand it, not constrain it. He argues that VAR now suffers from inflated expectations — the introduction of semi-automated offside tools raised the assumption that technology should deliver perfect outcomes, a standard no human system ever met. Many decisions, such as fouls or handball calls, still require the kind of contextual human judgment no camera can supply.

Alternatives are being tested. Challenge cards, trialed at the U20 men's World Cup, allowed coaches to request reviews rather than officials initiating them constantly — borrowing a model from American football to reduce the cascade of interruptions. The system continues to be evaluated, though it is often framed as a cheaper workaround rather than a genuine reimagining of technology's role.

Gulavani's preferred framing is more fundamental: treat technology as decision support, not decision replacement. A return to football without any technology is unlikely — the sport, like business and governance, has already integrated too much. The real question is whether football can find a way to return its tools to a supporting role, catching clear errors without governing the match itself. If it can, the lesson may travel well beyond the stadium.

Ten years into its use in professional football, the video assistant referee has become the sport's most contentious technology—not because it fails to work, but because it works too well, and keeps expanding into territory it was never meant to occupy.

When the International Football Association Board first approved VAR a decade ago, the mandate was narrow and clear: use video replay to catch the obvious errors that human referees might miss, while keeping the referee in charge of the match. The technology was meant to be a safety net, not the net itself. But something shifted. Each season brought new applications—offside calls assisted by artificial intelligence, handball decisions, fouls in the penalty area—until what began as a corrective tool became a parallel decision-making system that could halt play for minutes while officials reviewed angles in slow motion.

The World Cup this past summer made the tension visible. Matches stopped. Fans waited. The fluid, fast-moving game they came to watch fractured into intervals of uncertainty and technical review. By mid-September, as domestic seasons kicked off again, the complaints had only grown louder. In Germany, where VAR has operated in the Bundesliga for nine years, organized fan groups launched a coordinated campaign in August demanding the technology be removed entirely. Their argument was blunt: VAR had robbed football of its joy. The technology, they said, needed to go back in the box.

What makes this moment significant is that German football fans are not passive consumers. Many hold club memberships that give them genuine influence over governance. Their push was not mere grumbling but an organized challenge to the sport's direction. Yet Jochen Drees, who heads VAR operations in Germany, argued for refinement rather than removal—a response that Susmit Gulavani, an assistant professor of AI and machine learning in sport at the University of South Carolina, recognizes as a natural institutional tendency. Once a technology proves capable, the impulse is to expand its role, not constrain it.

Gulavani frames VAR as a symptom of a broader pattern in how societies deploy technology. "The idea behind VAR was that technology could reduce human error while leaving the referee in charge," he told Deutsche Welle. "Over time, however, VAR has expanded in both its use and its influence." The introduction of semi-automated offside technology improved precision, but it also raised expectations that technology should deliver perfect outcomes—a standard no human system ever could. That gap between what technology can do and what the sport actually needs is where the sense of mission creep originates. VAR is now expected to resolve almost every contentious decision, even though many incidents, such as fouls or handball calls, still require human interpretation that no camera can provide.

Alternatives are being tested. At the U20 men's football World Cup last year, challenge cards—borrowed from American football—were trialed. Coaches could request reviews rather than officials initiating them constantly, reducing the cascade of interruptions. The system, officially called Football Video Support, continues to be tested, though it is often viewed as a cheaper alternative to VAR rather than a genuine replacement. Gulavani argues for a different framing altogether: treat technology as decision support, not decision replacement. "AI and technologies like VAR are good at processing large amounts of information quickly and consistently, but they cannot fully understand the context, intent, or nuance that many sporting decisions require," he said. "Human referees are still needed to interpret the Laws of the Game and exercise judgment in situations where there is no objectively correct answer."

A return to football without technology seems unlikely. Business, recruitment, and event management have already integrated AI and automation into their operations; sport will not reverse course. The real question is whether the sport can find a way to return technology to a supporting role—one that catches the clear error without governing the match itself. If it can, the lesson might ripple beyond the white lines of stadiums into how other institutions think about the tools they deploy.

The idea behind VAR was that technology could reduce human error while leaving the referee in charge. Over time, however, VAR has expanded in both its use and its influence.
— Susmit Gulavani, assistant professor of AI and machine learning in sport, University of South Carolina
The key is to treat technology as decision support rather than decision replacement. AI and technologies like VAR are good at processing large amounts of information quickly and consistently, but they cannot fully understand the context, intent, or nuance that many sporting decisions require.
— Susmit Gulavani
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