The 'Coordinated Campaign' Claim Against FIFA: The Questions Left Hanging from the Infantino Salary Story

When the statement came from FIFA headquarters in late August, there was no rain over Zurich, but the atmosphere of football politics was heavy. The British newspaper The Times had published a report claiming that FIFA President Gianni Infantino had received a 'second salary' beyond his annual pay, amounting to over 210 million BDT (approximately US$1.7–1.8 million). Within days, the report was withdrawn and an apology published. But even after the apology, one sentence lingered, largely undiscussed: FIFA had said such reports were part of a 'coordinated and ongoing campaign.' Who is behind this campaign, what evidence exists—nothing. Just a statement, printed as fact by the media, without verification. This is the real tension of the story. In FIFA's financial structure, this amount is actually small. FIFA's revenue budget for the 2026–2026 cycle is approximately US$11 billion—against that, US$1.8 million is a rounding error. But the number becomes large when it comes to disclosure. The Times' correction stated that under Swiss law, the payment is classified as 'expenses and rewards,' not 'remuneration,' and therefore not subject to annual report disclosure. Legally, this may be correct, but it creates a gap with fans' assumptions: they believe all of the president's income is disclosed, yet some parts remain outside disclosure. That gap is the real story, not the salary figure. I have followed football governance for years, and a pattern emerges here. When allegations hit large institutions, they respond quickly, label the allegations a 'campaign,' and threaten legal action. FIFA did exactly that—same-day statement, 'coordinated campaign' claim, and a warning of action against 'false or defamatory' reporting ahead of the election. As a communications strategy, it is adept. But on the question of democratic accountability, it opens a dangerous door: if the incumbent president, preparing for re-election, has the power to label investigative reporting against him as 'defamatory,' where does press freedom stand? The Times' apology is a rare event. A tier-one British outlet publicly conceding error on a FIFA story is a tactical win for FIFA. But the method behind this win—legal threats ahead of an election—may be damaging to FIFA's legitimacy in the long run. Because the question is not about salary; the question is about power. If an institution threatens journalists the moment questions arise about its top official's financial transparency, who will ask questions in the future? This is not new in football administration. After the 2026 corruption scandal, FIFA promised reform and greater transparency. But full disclosure of the president's remuneration remains uncertain. When Swiss law allows 'expenses and rewards' to be shown separately, that allowance is used. It is not illegal, but the question is: how much financial transparency should the leadership of a global sports institution have? How do other international sports federations, even major corporations, disclose their top executives' pay—where does FIFA stand in comparison? Another dimension is the role of the media. The Times made a mistake and apologised—a sign of journalistic accountability. But this can create a 'chilling effect': editors will think twice before investigative reporting on the FIFA beat. Yet such scrutiny is most vital precisely when FIFA is preparing for re-election. Here an uncomfortable equation has formed: FIFA can present its anti-press stance as a fight against misinformation, while the real question—financial transparency—remains unanswered. When I sit at MA Aziz Stadium watching football, I see not just the game on the pitch—I see power relations. Who decides, who can question, who stays silent. This FIFA episode is also such a match: an institution using its power to suppress criticism, while the media concedes error and retreats. But as spectators, we should ask: if the salary figure was wrong, why is the disclosure rule such that the figure is never disclosed in the first place? In the future, this question will grow louder. Allegations against FIFA will arise, be retracted, arise again—the cycle will continue. But the real test will come at election time: will member associations question the president's financial transparency, or stay silent to maintain the balance of power? The history of football administration suggests the latter. But history also changes—when enough people start asking questions. I write in my notebook: when rain falls, the pitch gets wet, but questions do not. The questions left hanging from the Infantino salary story should stay dry—and rise again with the next rain.