The Djibouti case tells us something about football’s supposed independence from politics

Police entered the headquarters of the Djibouti Football Federation and escorted officials and staff out. Shortly afterwards, a number of club representatives held an extraordinary meeting and voted to remove Souleiman Hassan Waberi, who had been federation president since 2012 and was a member of the FIFA Council and the executive committee of the African Confederation.

The dispute began weeks earlier, when a group of clubs called for the removal of Waberi and the executive committee. The Secretary of State for Sport had ordered the Federation to convene an extraordinary general meeting within 72 hours. The Fdf maintained that the necessary quorum was not present. Then the police arrived.

Accounts differ. The federation alleges an unlawful takeover and considers the meeting null and void. According to the account reported by state media, however, 39 delegates are said to have verified the quorum and unanimously approved the removal of the federation’s leadership.

The problem is that football in Djibouti is not governed solely by Djiboutian law. FIFA’s statutes require member associations to manage their own affairs independently and without undue influence from third parties. Government intervention could therefore lead to the suspension of the association, resulting in the national team and clubs being excluded from international competitions.

It has already happened. In 2021, FIFA suspended Chad following government interference in the federation’s management, and Pakistan following the occupation of the federation’s headquarters. Similar measures have been taken against Sri Lanka and, more recently, the Congo. The rationale is clear: to prevent a government from treating the football association as if it were its own administrative body, replacing its leaders according to political expediency.

Djibouti, however, illustrates the other side of the principle of autonomy. Waberi and the federation were already the subject of criticism regarding their administrative and financial management. A government inspection had raised concerns about procedures and the use of resources. Waberi rejected the allegations, arguing, amongst other things, that FIFA’s audits of funds provided by the international organisation had not identified any irregularities.

And it is precisely on this boundary that FIFA has built a unique form of sovereignty. It possesses no territory, army or police force. However, it does possess the right to admit or exclude a country from world football. No state is obliged to belong to it, but remaining outside means depriving national teams and clubs of international competitions and foregoing funding and development programmes.

This is why sporting sanctions carry political weight. Whilst they are formally imposed on a football association, they affect players, supporters and the country’s international reputation, creating pressure that can force a government to back down.

FIFA and CAF will now have to determine whether what happened in Djibouti constitutes interference. This does not mean that Waberi is in the right, nor that the allegations against him are unfounded. The point is another: the final say on the footballing legitimacy of what took place may not lie with the state in which it occurred.

The Djibouti police may enter the federation’s headquarters, but it is FIFA that will decide whether, once they step out of that door, Djibouti will continue to play alongside the rest of the world.