Qatar’s decision to launch itself into hosting the 2022 World Cup was a head-scratcher from the start. Why, some wondered, would a Middle Eastern kingdom with fewer than 3 million people and little football tradition want to host the sport’s biggest event?

Skeptics say the country wanted to use the prestige of the World Cup, which starts Sunday, to remake its image as an oil producer with few international connections and a shaky human-rights record.

They viewed the move, which will cost the country some $220 billion, as a classic case of “sportswashing” — using sports as a forum to cast a country or company as different than many people perceive.

It is hardly a new concept, and Middle Eastern oil money has long been a major player. Where many see rich nations spending money to join the global elite, other see nefarious attempts to hide undesired reputations.

“The Qatar World Cup kickstarted discussion about sportswashing and human rights in football and it has been very steep learning curve for us all,” Norway football federation president Lise Klaveness said at a recent Council of Europe event.

Germany’s interior minister also expressed concern about bringing the event to Qatar, saying “no World Cup takes place in a vacuum.”

“There are criteria that have to be kept to, and then it would be better not to award to such states,” minister Nancy Faeser said last month in a move that sparked diplomatic tensions.

Qatar’s leader, Sheikh Tamim bin Hamad Al Thani, has fought back, saying the country “has been subjected to an unprecedented campaign that no host country has ever faced.”

The World Cup is just one way Qatar is using its massive wealth to project influence. By buying sports teams, hosting high-profile events, and investing billions in European capitals — such as buying London’s The Shard skyscraper — Qatar has been integrating itself into international finance and a network of support.

Paris-Saint Germain (PSG) of Ligue 1 is owned by the emir of Qatar. His 2011 purchase came a year after Qatar won the right to host the World Cup. For many, it felt like it was scripted to show that the country has football bona fides. Some of PSG’s players are among the world’s most famous — Neymar, Kylian Mbappé and Lionel Messi — and all will be in the World Cup.

America’s own Christian Pulisic is on Premier League team Chelsea, which was owned by a Russian oligarch, Roman Abramovich.

Abramovich was widely hailed as that team’s savior during his 19 years of club control but put the team up for sale this year due to sanctions related to his country’s invasion of Ukraine.

The new LIV Golf league is bankrolled by Saudi Arabia’s sovereign wealth fund, which also owns another Premier League team, Newcastle, while defending English champion Manchester City is Abu Dhabi-owned.

Some of those teams’ best players, including Kevin de Bruyne, Kieran Trippier and Bruno Guimarães, will play for Belgium and England and Brazil in the World Cup.

None of these players, or owners, received the same sort of public condemnation as those in golf who left the PGA Tour to play for LIV. Just as was the case when the football teams were purchased, there has never been any mystery about who funded LIV, which has brazenly branded itself as a disruptive force in golf that will change the sport for the better.