The Battle for FIFA Has Entered a New Phase
Two weeks ago, in a conversation with some soccer fans about FIFA President Gianni Infantino and the crisis he is facing, I argued that he should not be forced out of FIFA simply because UEFA had lost confidence in him.
Europe is enormously powerful in world football. It has the richest leagues, the biggest clubs, enormous broadcasting power and some of the game’s most valuable commercial markets. But UEFA has only 55 of FIFA’s 211 national associations. However powerful Europe may be, one confederation should not decide who governs world football.
That argument still stands. But the situation around Infantino no longer does.
UEFA is no longer alone. Opposition to the FIFA president has spread beyond Europe, involving leaders from other confederations, individual national associations and senior figures within FIFA itself. Calls for independent investigation and governance reform have grown. Some associations have openly withdrawn their confidence in Infantino. The six Nordic associations – Sweden, Norway, Denmark, Finland, Iceland and the Faroe Islands – are among the latest to do so.
And yet Infantino is still standing. More importantly, he still has friends. To understand whether he can survive, however, one must first understand what caused this extraordinary fight in the first place.
What did Infantino actually do?
At the centre of the crisis is money – specifically, the future commercial value of the World Cup and other FIFA competitions.
Infantino backed a plan known as FIFA Forward Enterprise. In simple terms, FIFA wanted to place important commercial rights connected to its competitions into a separate business and bring in private investors.
The proposal involved selling a 20 per cent stake in that commercial entity. The project was valued at about $20 billion, meaning outside investors could potentially have paid roughly $4 billion for their share.
Infantino’s argument was essentially commercial. FIFA owns some of the most valuable sporting properties in the world. Yet he believed FIFA was not extracting their full commercial value. Bringing in outside capital and business expertise, he argued, could unlock billions of dollars that could then be invested back into football. On the surface, that is not an absurd idea.
Businesses regularly bring in investors to expand. And Infantino can point to something important from his years as FIFA president: more FIFA money has reached football associations around the world, including countries that will never possess the commercial power of England, Germany, Spain or France.
That helps explain why many smaller football nations still see him differently from his European critics.
But FIFA is not an ordinary company. The World Cup is not simply a product owned by executives in Zurich. It belongs institutionally to a global football organisation whose 211 national associations expect to have a say in decisions affecting its future.
And that is where Infantino appears to have made his biggest mistake.
In short, he believed FIFA was sitting on something enormously valuable but was not making enough money from it. The World Cup attracts billions of viewers; companies want to sponsor it, broadcasters want to show it, fans buy tickets, and businesses want their brands associated with it.
Infantino’s argument was simple: if all those eyes are on FIFA’s competitions, FIFA should find better ways of turning that attention into money. FIFA says revenue comes principally from broadcasting, sponsorship and marketing, licensing, ticketing, hospitality and other commercial ventures.
But Infantino’s ambition went beyond simply making FIFA richer. His argument was that FIFA could make more money from football and then send more of that money back into football. He wanted FIFA to manage its competitions more aggressively as commercial assets and use the additional income to finance pitches, academies, national teams, women’s football, youth competitions and other projects across its 211 member associations.
After the 2026 World Cup, he said FIFA could exceed $15 billion in revenue for the 2023–2026 cycle, while arguing that many poorer football nations depend heavily on money generated by the World Cup.
That helps explain both the attraction and the controversy surrounding Infantino’s project. To his supporters, he was trying to make FIFA’s greatest asset – global football — work harder for countries that cannot generate such money themselves. To his critics, however, the question is whether FIFA can pursue football as an increasingly powerful global business without allowing commercial interests to reshape its competitions, calendar and governance. Infantino wanted FIFA to earn more so that it could spend more. The argument now is over how far FIFA should go to achieve that.
The problem was not only the deal
Much of the anger has concerned how the project was handled.
Confederations and senior FIFA officials complained that they had not been properly consulted or informed about a proposal that could fundamentally change the ownership and commercial structure surrounding FIFA’s biggest competitions.
The opposition became so strong that FIFA abandoned the project on July 31. FIFA later apologised to its 211 members for mistakes in how the proposal had been handled. But abandoning the proposal did not end the crisis.
It made people ask how such an enormous proposal had travelled so far without sufficient consultation in the first place.
UEFA, the Asian Football Confederation and CONCACAF subsequently accused FIFA of deception and a breach of trust. They demanded independent scrutiny.
Then the crisis moved inside FIFA. Kevin Lamour, FIFA’s chief operating officer, publicly criticised the project. He subsequently left FIFA. His departure caused further criticism, with outside groups alleging that FIFA was suppressing internal dissent. FIFA vice-president Sándor Csányi later described Lamour’s departure as the final straw in withdrawing his support from Infantino.
So, Infantino is not principally accused of stealing FIFA’s money or personally selling the World Cup. The central accusation is about governance.
His critics say a decision of enormous importance was pursued without sufficient consultation, transparency and institutional checks – and that this reflects a FIFA presidency that has accumulated too much power around one man. That distinction matters.
Where did Infantino go wrong?
His first mistake may have been believing that because the commercial idea made sense to him, he had sufficient authority to push it forward. His second was underestimating what selling part of FIFA’s commercial structure to private investors would symbolise.
Football associations could reasonably ask: once private investors own part of a company built around World Cup revenues, whose interests come first when difficult decisions are made – football’s or investors’?
Private investors do not invest billions for charity. They expect returns.
The six Nordic associations have now demanded binding assurances that FIFA competitions will remain free from private ownership. They also want an independent review of whether FIFA’s post-2016 checks and balances are actually working.
But perhaps Infantino’s biggest error was political. When people inside and outside FIFA began questioning the project, the issue became not simply whether the proposal was good or bad, but whether FIFA still possessed institutions strong enough to challenge its president.
That is much more dangerous for him. A bad commercial proposal can be withdrawn. A crisis of confidence in the way an organisation is governed is much harder to reverse.
But was Infantino completely wrong?
Not necessarily. This is where the story becomes more complicated. Infantino’s basic argument about the economics of world football deserves consideration.
Football is enormously wealthy, but that wealth is distributed very unevenly. A relatively small group of European leagues and clubs generates extraordinary revenues, while hundreds of national associations operate with limited commercial resources.
Infantino increasingly presents himself as the president of those smaller football nations. He argues that FIFA’s responsibility is to spread football’s wealth, build infrastructure and give countries outside the traditional centres of power opportunities to compete and develop. In recent days he has again portrayed himself as the champion of poorer football nations.
That message matters politically. It also explains why the revolt against him is not universal.
CAF and CONMEBOL have continued to support him, while prominent figures such as Cameroon federation president Samuel Eto’o have defended his record. Eto’o argues that Infantino has expanded opportunities for countries that historically received less from world football.
So, this should not be reduced to a simple story of a bad FIFA president against people trying to save football. There are competing interests here. And there is a genuine argument about who world football should serve.
Infantino still has votes
FIFA is not UEFA, AFC, CAF, CONCACAF, CONMEBOL or Oceania. Those are its confederations.
FIFA’s political foundation is its 211 national associations. Each association has a vote. And many of them still appear to support Infantino.
That is why his recent visit to the Caribbean was politically significant. CONCACAF president and FIFA vice-president Victor Montagliani had asked Infantino not to attend a Caribbean youth tournament in the Dominican Republic because his presence risked overshadowing the event amid the crisis.
Infantino went anyway. He met football and political leaders there. The Caribbean associations are potentially important in the struggle over his future.
The episode revealed something fundamental. Confederation presidents may oppose Infantino. But they do not own the votes beneath them. The votes belong to national associations.
Governance or power struggle?
This creates an uncomfortable question. Is the rebellion against Infantino a struggle for better governance? Or is it a struggle for control of world football? The answer may be both.
There are serious governance questions that FIFA cannot dismiss as European hostility. If senior FIFA officials say important decisions were improperly handled, that deserves investigation. If national associations believe FIFA’s governing structures are failing, they deserve answers. If UEFA, AFC and CONCACAF raise questions about trust and transparency, FIFA cannot simply say everybody is conspiring against its president.
Accountability requires more than denial. But Infantino’s supporters can ask legitimate questions too. Should wealthy and powerful football regions determine who runs an organisation in which every national association formally has one vote?
Should England, Germany or France carry more political weight than Tanzania, Jamaica, Fiji or Bolivia simply because European football generates more money?
FIFA was created as a global institution. Its president, therefore, cannot be elected in Europe and merely confirmed by everybody else.
That is why this crisis cannot ultimately be settled by the loudest voices. It must be settled by FIFA itself.
Let FIFA decide
In my conversation with the fans I referred to earlier, I argued that if Infantino’s mandate became genuinely doubtful, the question should be returned to FIFA’s membership. That argument has become more relevant, not less.
A possible vote of no confidence is now being discussed. Under FIFA’s statutes, 20 per cent of the 211 associations – 43 countries – can demand an Extraordinary Congress. If such a Congress is convened, each association present has one vote, and decisions can be made by a simple majority.
That would put the argument where it ultimately belongs. Let the football associations decide.
But there is now another problem that cannot be ignored. A vote is democratic only when those voting are genuinely free to make their choice.
FIFA distributes enormous development resources to national associations. Many smaller federations depend heavily on that money for pitches, training centres, administration, youth football and other programmes.
That creates an unavoidable question. Can associations independently judge the president when the institution led by that president distributes resources on which many of them depend?
It does not mean those associations are being bought. Nor does it mean their support for Infantino is illegitimate. But FIFA must ensure that nobody can reasonably confuse development funding with political patronage.
Otherwise, winning an election may establish a numerical majority without restoring institutional trust.
Survival is not vindication
This is perhaps the most important distinction in the current crisis. Infantino may survive. He may still command enough support among FIFA’s 211 members to defeat his opponents.
But survival would not automatically prove that everything his administration did was right. Likewise, losing the confidence of UEFA, several FIFA vice-presidents or a growing number of national associations does not automatically prove that he has lost FIFA’s mandate.
There are two separate questions. The first concerns conduct. What happened inside FIFA? Were proper procedures followed? Were governing bodies properly informed? Were mistakes made? Were FIFA’s own rules respected?
Those questions require credible independent scrutiny. The second concerns political legitimacy. Does Gianni Infantino still command the confidence necessary to lead FIFA?
That question ultimately belongs to FIFA’s members. The two should not be confused.
FIFA after Infantino
There is a danger that world football becomes so consumed by Infantino that it forgets FIFA. Removing one president does not automatically reform an institution.
Infantino’s opponents must therefore explain more than why they want him gone. They must explain what FIFA should become afterwards.
Would its presidency have less power? Would independent governance bodies become stronger? Would major commercial decisions require greater scrutiny? Would national associations have greater oversight? Would players, clubs and other stakeholders have a stronger voice? And perhaps most importantly, how would FIFA prevent another president from accumulating the same concentration of power now being criticised?
Those questions will remain even if Infantino leaves tomorrow. Replacing him without reforming FIFA could simply change the person sitting in the president’s chair while leaving the system intact.
So, will Infantino survive? Perhaps. He understands FIFA politics. He knows its electoral geography. He knows that the loudest voices in world football do not necessarily possess the most votes.
His opponents are becoming stronger. But they still have to demonstrate that their revolt reaches deep enough into FIFA’s 211-member electorate to remove him.
Infantino should not survive because FIFA’s financial machinery can deliver loyal votes. He should not fall simply because Europe’s football establishment has decided his time is over.
The accusations surrounding his leadership should be independently examined. Then FIFA’s members should decide.
If they still support him, his opponents must respect that verdict. If he loses their confidence, he should leave.
But even victory may no longer be enough. If Infantino defeats his opponents but leaves FIFA divided, suspicious and institutionally weaker, he will have won the presidency and lost the organisation.
And if his opponents defeat Infantino only to replace the dominance of one president with the dominance of powerful confederations, FIFA will have solved nothing.
Two weeks ago, the question was how Gianni Infantino could save himself – and FIFA. Today, we understand more clearly what brought him here.
He tried to change how FIFA makes money. Perhaps there was a legitimate commercial idea behind it. But the way that idea was pursued opened a much larger question about how FIFA makes decisions, how much power its president should possess, and who ultimately owns world football.
That is why the question today is more urgent: Will Infantino survive? Perhaps. But the more important question is: What kind of FIFA will survive with – or without – him?
