Paris – FIFA has accused European football’s governing body UEFA of waging a “misinformation campaign” as the bitter battle for control of world football escalates into the courtroom. In a 26-page legal filing submitted to a court in Florida, FIFA claims that UEFA’s attempt to force the world body to hand over documents linked to Gianni Infantino’s plan to sell off parts of the World Cup is a calculated act of interference rather than a legitimate legal request. FIFA says UEFA’s discovery application is designed to “influence” the FIFA presidential election scheduled for next year and is being pursued “for purposes of harassment, rather than out of any legitimate need for discovery.” The filing goes further, accusing UEFA of acting “in bad faith” and alleging that European football’s leadership has made “numerous false or misleading statements” about Infantino, including the claim that he “sought to profit personally” from the abandoned FIFA Forward Enterprise proposal. UEFA, which filed a request in Florida to gather evidence for a potential criminal complaint in Switzerland, has declined to comment on FIFA’s accusations. At the centre of the dispute is Infantino’s July proposal to create a commercial subsidiary that would run FIFA’s biggest events, including the World Cup and the Club World Cup. Under the FIFA Forward Enterprise (FFE) initiative, private investors would have been allowed to acquire stakes in the company, effectively selling off the commercial rights to football’s largest competitions. The proposal caused uproar across the sport, and FIFA quickly shelved it after a wave of criticism. But UEFA has refused to move on, and its legal action in Florida represents the latest effort to force FIFA and Infantino to answer for the plan. FIFA’s response is blunt: the application should be thrown out because it “fails on both the facts and the law.” The case has now become a defining battle ahead of the March election, pitting UEFA and some of Europe’s most powerful football federations against Infantino, who has made clear he will stand again despite the controversy.
Infantino’s proposal was rooted in a long-standing ambition to reshape FIFA’s commercial strategy. The FIFA Forward Enterprise initiative was presented as a way to unlock new sources of investment and maximize the value of FIFA’s events. Under the plan, a newly created company would take charge of marketing, sponsorship, broadcasting rights, and hospitality for the World Cup and Club World Cup. Private equity funds, sovereign wealth funds, or other investors could buy stakes in that company, giving FIFA a massive injection of cash upfront while ceding a share of future revenues and control. Infantino argued that this would allow FIFA to invest more in football around the world. He insisted, in a letter sent to FIFA’s 211 member associations, that the “commercial proposal, now withdrawn, was intended to enable FIFA to invest more in football.” But critics were not convinced. For UEFA, the plan raised fundamental questions about FIFA’s governance. How could an organisation with an estimated $6 billion in unused cash reserves justify selling off the World Cup? What would stop private investors from prioritising profit over the interests of the sport? Who would guard against conflicts of interest? The backlash was swift and fierce. Within weeks, FIFA announced that the plan had been abandoned. Yet the episode exposed a deeper fault line between Infantino and UEFA. European football’s governing body, which counts World Cup holders Spain and powerhouse nations such as France, Germany, and England among its members, has been the most vocal force calling for Infantino’s removal. UEFA argues that FIFA already has the resources to fund development and infrastructure globally. Earlier this month, UEFA urged FIFA to distribute $10 million to each of its member associations — a total of $2.1 billion — for investment in infrastructure and football development. Infantino’s response in his letter was carefully worded: he said he would support “the greatest level of additional funding that can responsibly be delivered.” That is not a concrete promise, but it signals that FIFA is under pressure to start spending its vast reserves. The debate has become central to the election, with UEFA trying to frame Infantino as a leader who raided FIFA’s cash pile rather than deployed it.
Behind the political rhetoric lies a complex legal battle that could have significant consequences for FIFA and UEFA. UEFA’s request in Florida is a discovery action under U.S. law, an increasingly common tool used by parties in foreign litigation to obtain evidence from individuals or companies located in the United States. UEFA says it needs the documents to prepare a potential criminal complaint in Switzerland, where both FIFA and UEFA are headquartered. European football’s governing body announced last month that, alongside “other interested parties,” it was preparing to bring criminal claims in Switzerland against Infantino and possibly other FIFA officials and advisors for “criminal mismanagement.” Such a complaint would be examined by Swiss prosecutors, who could decide whether to open a formal investigation. It is a serious step, and FIFA has responded with force. In its Florida filing, FIFA argues that UEFA’s application is not a good-faith effort to obtain evidence but a strategic weapon in a political campaign. The 26-page response alleges that UEFA is acting “for purposes of harassment” and accuses UEFA of engaging in a “misinformation campaign.” FIFA says UEFA’s application “fails on both the facts and the law” and should therefore be denied. FIFA also contends that UEFA’s motion contains “numerous false or misleading statements” about Infantino and FIFA, including the assertion that Infantino “sought to profit personally from the FFE proposal.” By characterising UEFA’s request as an attempt to “influence” the upcoming presidential election, FIFA is trying to convince the court that the discovery request is an abuse of process. Legal observers note that U.S. courts generally take such applications seriously, but they are reluctant to allow discovery that appears to be motivated by harassment or political agendas. The case also highlights the unusual intersection of sports governance, criminal law, and electoral politics. While FIFA is a private association, its president exercises enormous influence over the global game, and the outcome of the Florida dispute could shape the narrative in the run-up to the March vote. UEFA declined to comment, but its position is well known: it wants Infantino held accountable for a proposal that, in UEFA’s view, put FIFA’s commercial interests ahead of its members. FIFA, for its part, portrays UEFA’s legal offensive as a thinly disguised attempt to undermine a president who refuses to do Europe’s bidding.
The timing of the legal battle is no accident. FIFA confirmed this month that Infantino will stand again for president in the election next March, despite the backlash over the abandoned private investment plan. Infantino has been in office since 2016, when he took over following the corruption scandals that forced his predecessor Sepp Blatter from power. He has since consolidated control over FIFA, steering major decisions such as the expansion of the World Cup to 48 teams and the awarding of the 2034 tournament to Saudi Arabia. But his relationship with UEFA, once cooperative, has deteriorated sharply. UEFA has called openly for his removal, and it is using every tool at its disposal — including legal action and public pressure — to make the case. The election is decided by FIFA’s 211 member associations, a deeply fragmented electorate. Some smaller football nations depend on FIFA funding for almost everything, from pitches and courses to administrative salaries. UEFA’s proposal to distribute $10 million to each member association is clearly aimed at those voters. It positions UEFA as a defender of grassroots football, while casting Infantino as a hoarder of cash. FIFA, however, is not blind to this political dynamic. Infantino’s letter to the members emphasises his willingness to increase distributions, saying he would support “the greatest level of additional funding that can responsibly be delivered.” He is walking a tightrope: offering more money to appease members while trying not to appear pressured by UEFA’s demands. The letter also repeats his justification for the FIFA Forward Enterprise proposal, calling it an attempt to enable greater investment in football. But for UEFA, the existence of estimated $6 billion in unused cash reserves undermines that justification. If FIFA has billions sitting idle, why did it need to sell off the World Cup? That question is likely to echo throughout the election campaign. Infantino’s allies point out that FIFA’s reserves are not a slush fund; they must cover legal liabilities, development commitments, and unforeseen emergencies. Still, the optics are difficult for a president who has pledged to modernise FIFA and broaden its global appeal. The financial redistribution debate has become a proxy war for the leadership election itself.
Infantino is not without friends, and the battle for the presidency is likely to be decided far beyond Europe. Last month, Saudi Arabia, which was chosen to host the 2034 World Cup, came out publicly in support of the FIFA president. That endorsement is significant because Saudi Arabia’s sovereign wealth and political weight could translate into influence over other football federations, particularly in Asia and the Middle East. The African football confederation, CAF, and South America’s CONMEBOL have also been supportive of Infantino. These alliances are not accidental. FIFA’s presidential election is one in which every member association has a vote, and developing nations make up the vast majority of the electorate. UEFA may control many of the sport’s biggest clubs and leagues, but it commands only a minority of FIFA’s membership. To defeat Infantino, UEFA would need to win over federations in Africa, Asia, and the Americas that have benefited from FIFA’s financial support and may be wary of European interference. The hosting arrangements for the 2030 World Cup further complicate the political landscape. The 2030 tournament will be held mainly in Spain, Portugal, and Morocco, with three South American nations — Argentina, Paraguay, and Uruguay — each hosting a match as part of centenary celebrations. This unusual cross-continental format was negotiated under Infantino’s leadership and reflects his ability to build coalitions across blocs. It also gives South American federations a stake in FIFA’s continued stability. Saudi Arabia’s backing for Infantino, combined with CAF’s loyalty and CONMEBOL’s support, creates a formidable bloc that will be hard for UEFA to crack. Infantino has positioned himself as the champion of the global, emerging football world against the traditional European establishment. UEFA’s aggressive campaign may therefore be counterproductive: many FIFA members resent what they see as Europe trying to impose its will on the rest of the world. Infantino can point to the 2026 World Cup in North America and the 2034 tournament in Saudi Arabia as evidence that FIFA is expanding beyond its traditional heartlands. The legal case in Florida and the criminal complaint in Switzerland are, for now, only one front in a larger geopolitical struggle for the future of football’s governing body.
As the March election approaches, the confrontation between FIFA and UEFA shows no sign of cooling. On one side, Infantino controls the levers of power, has deep relationships with many federations, and can deploy FIFA’s financial resources to reward loyal members. On the other, UEFA is determined to remove him, using allegations of mismanagement and misinformation to pressure FIFA’s membership into turning against their president. The legal proceedings in Florida may take months, and the Swiss criminal complaint, if filed, could take even longer to resolve. But the immediate battlefield is the FIFA Congress, where 211 associations will cast their votes. FIFA’s response to UEFA’s discovery request is significant not only for its legal substance but for its tone. By accusing UEFA of “harassment” and “bad faith,” FIFA is framing the European body as an obstructionist rival rather than a partner. That framing may resonate with voters who see UEFA’s campaign as a continuation of old colonial dynamics in football governance. Yet Infantino cannot ignore the ethical questions raised by the FIFA Forward Enterprise proposal. Even though the plan was withdrawn, the fact that it was considered at all has damaged his reputation. UEFA’s demand for $2.1 billion in distributions has also put Infantino on the defensive, forcing him to respond with promises of greater funding while trying to maintain fiscal prudence. The final outcome will depend on whether UEFA can turn its moral outrage into electoral momentum. That is a tall order. Infantino’s supporters control key regional confederations, and FIFA’s decision to award the 2034 World Cup to Saudi Arabia, followed by Saudi Arabia’s public endorsement, suggests that the geopolitical alliances are firmly in his favour. Still, the flow of information — from the Florida court, from Swiss prosecutors, from investigative journalists — could change the calculus. If UEFA obtains documents that raise serious questions about what happened inside FIFA, member associations may be forced to reconsider their loyalties. For now, Infantino remains the favourite, but his path to another term is more contested than at any time since his first election. The coming months will reveal whether UEFA’s campaign can overcome the powerful inertia of FIFA’s existing power structure, or whether it will remain exactly what FIFA claims it is: a politically motivated attempt to overturn the choice of football’s global majority.
