The IOC has trumpeted it worldwide as a « historical milestone »: the United Nations has recognised the sacrosanct autonomy of sport. Indeed, the Resolution A/69/L.5 (see the final draft) adopted by the General Assembly on 31 October states that it  “supports the independence and autonomy of sport as well as the mission of the International Olympic Committee in leading the Olympic movement”. This is a logical conclusion to a year that has brought the two organisations closer than ever. In April, UN Secretary General Ban Ki-moon appointed former IOC President, Jacques Rogge, Special Envoy for Youth Refugees and Sport. At this occasion, the current IOC President, Thomas Bach, made an eloquent speech celebrating a “historic step forward to better accomplish our common mission for humanity” and a memorandum understanding was signed between the UN and the IOC. This is all sweet and well, but is there something new under the sun?

A beautiful friendship

As the IOC points out itself, it has always had a friendly institutional relationship with the UN. There is a good deal of solidarity of kin between the two transnational organisations. The UN has been keen on shoring up the Olympic truce. In fact, since 1993, it has adopted no less than 24 resolutions supporting sport (and the Olympic Games) as a means to promote education, health, development and peace. However, this year’s resolution goes beyond the previous resolutions. The text includes the usual references to the use of sport to foster peace and development, but it also celebrates in unequivocal terms the work and the autonomy of the Olympic movement. This is music to the IOC’s ears and resonates with its repeated calls on States to respect the autonomy of the “lex olympica”. The IOC has already stretched the interpretation of the resolution and claims “boycotts are incompatible with this UN request for respect of the values of sport”. Nevertheless, one must keep her feet on legal earth. This resolution by the General Assembly (GA) has no legally binding value on the UN Member States, it is merely encouraging them to act upon it. International legal scholars have endlessly debated the potential legal effects of UN resolutions, and they agree on one thing: Resolutions by the GA are not per se legally binding.[1] To be so, they must be capable of creating obligations on their addressees, or recognized as customary international law, both very unlikely in our case. Thus, this resolution should be interpreted as a declaration of friendship, which could have a practical impact (or not) on the work of national courts, depending on their willingness to acknowledge the UN resolution. In practice, it is just another sign (after the UEFA-EU arrangement) that international organisations tend to side politically (and usually uncritically) with the IOCs of this world.

A liaison dangereuse

Being good friends with the IOC guarantees good shots of the UN Secretary General holding the torch, but it might not be in the best interest of the UN, nor of the world’s citizens. The Olympic Games’ capacity to trigger an Olympic peace of some sort has been largely discredited by the invasion of Crimea and the proxy war fuelled by Russia in Ukraine, just days after the Winter Olympic Games in Sochi came to a close. The Secretary General of the UN himself stated in a recent (20 October 2014) report to the General Assembly that “[s]adly, there is no evidence of any initiative by warring parties either to unilaterally observe the Olympic Truce or to promote its mutual observation”. The Olympic truce myth has been a collective exercise of wishful prophesizing with no self-fulfilling effect in sight.

Furthermore, the UN General Assembly reaffirms “that any form of discrimination is incompatible with belonging to the Olympic movement”, but the latest Games in Sochi have also shown that the IOC is not sanguine, to say the least, in fighting discriminatory laws adopted by Olympic host countries. In fact, exactly on this matter, the IOC has announced already that it does not “have a mandate to impose measures on sovereign States outside its own fields”. This is surprising, as the IOC seems to consider it has a mandate to impose (via the host city contract) a string of measures on sovereign States covering core public policies (tax, infrastructure or intellectual property rights). Why does it not include the fight against all sorts of discrimination in the "fields" it deems its own? The latest draft of the Host city contract for the 2022 Winter Games comprises a reference to the “prohibition of any form of discrimination”, but it is still deprived of real legal teeth.

This relationship between the IOC and the UN is more of a liaisons dangereuse than a “beautiful friendship”. The UN should be weary to associate itself too closely with an institution characterised by a lack of transparency, internal democracy and accountability. Sure, one could hope that this friendship would lead the IOC to reform itself, but its readiness to do so is rather enhanced by public outrage and the threats of legal challenges than warm accolades. There is a regrettable paradox here: While the global citizenry is loudly contesting the IOC and FIFA, it is à la mode for international organisations to align themselves politically with them.

[1] On this question in general, see K. Hailbronner and E. Klein, Commentary of Article 10 of the UN Charter in B. Simma (ed.), The Charter of the United Nations : A Commentary, Oxford University Press, 2002, p.257-275

The summer saga surrounding Luis Suarez’s vampire instincts is long forgotten, even though it might still play a role in his surprisingly muted football debut in FC Barcelona’s magic triangle. However, the full text of the CAS award in the Suarez case has recently be made available on CAS’s website and we want to grasp this opportunity to offer a close reading of its holdings. In this regard, one has to keep in mind that “the object of the appeal is not to request the complete annulment of the sanction imposed on the Player” (par.33). Instead, Suarez and Barcelona were seeking to reduce the sanction imposed by FIFA. In their eyes, the four-month ban handed out by FIFA extending to all football-related activities and to the access to football stadiums was excessive and disproportionate. Accordingly, the case offered a great opportunity for CAS to discuss and analyse the proportionality of disciplinary sanctions based on the FIFA Disciplinary Code (FIFA DC). 

I.               Admissibility: Can FC Barcelona join the appeal?

As a preliminary matter, FIFA was contesting the right of FC Barcelona to take part in the appeal against the decision. The Panel judged that “in light of the specific circumstances of the case, taking into account the impact of the specific sanction imposed, the Panel finds that the Club is sufficiently affected by the Appealed Decision and that the Club has a tangible interest of financial and sporting nature at stake” (par. 47). In other words, “in a case where the FIFA authorities are issuing a sanction against a player and such sanction affects direct financial interests of a club, such club must have the possibility to appeal (within the applicable deadline) such decision in order to be able to protect its legal interests, even if this interests became actual after the challenged decision was issued” (par.48). In short, the right to appeal to CAS is extended to the club of the player, even when he is not party to the original proceedings.

II.             Merits: Is it the right sanction?

a.     The applicability of Art. 57 FIFA DC

The first problem raised was “whether the actions of the Player at the Match constitute […] an unsporting behaviour to be sanctioned […] under art. 57 FIFA DC” (par.69). The club and the player were invoking various well-known principles of criminal law (ne bis in idem and nulla poena sine lege certa) against it, but the arbitrators decided to reject these objections (par.70-74). Interestingly, the Panel held that “it is not necessary for the principles of predictability and legality to be respected that the football player should know, in advance of his infringement, the exact rule he may infringe, as well as the measure and kind of sanction he is liable to incur because of the infringement”. Furthermore, “[t]he fact that the competent body applying the FIFA DC has the discretion to adjust the sanction mentioned in the rules deemed applicable to the individual behaviour of a player breaching such rules is not inconsistent with those principles” (par.73). Yet, the Panel was also of the opinion that “the wording of art. 57 FIFA DC shows that this provision contains a mere general clause, trying to cover all possible conducts against fair play, which are not yet covered by other articles, or “consumed” by the application of any other provision, of the FIFA DC”. Hence, “to the extent the action of biting (in the circumstances in which it occurred at the Match) falls within the scope of art. 48 par. 1 lit. d) FIFA DC (as all the parties concede), since the kinds of “assaulting” therein described (“elbowing, punching, kicking”) are expressly not exhaustive (“... etc.”), the same action could not be comprised in the scope of art. 57 FIFA DC, even though the Player’s assaulting in the case at hand, being a misconduct, is also against fair play”. Thus, “the punishment of the Player is already and fully covered by the application of art. 48 par. 1 lit. d) FIFA DC – with no room left for art. 57 FIFA DC, wrongly applied by the FIFA disciplinary bodies” (par.77). In short, article 48 par. 1 lit. d) FIFA DC is deemed the lex specialis to art. 57 FIFA DC. Therefore, “any sanction going beyond those allowed by art. 48 par. 1 lit. d) FIFA DC would be inappropriate to the peculiarities of the case and would be disproportionate” (par.78).

b.     The existence of mitigating factors and aggravating circumstances

The claimants argued that the FIFA disciplinary bodies did not take in account the mitigating factors and wrongfully assumed aggravating circumstances. The Panel rebuts this line of thinking. Indeed, regarding “the question of the relevance to be given to the Player’s remorse as a mitigating factor, the Panel, looking at the non-contested facts and the Parties’ allegations, finds that the margin of discretion the FIFA Appeal Committee had to judge this case was not exceeded, and that it was correctly exercised” (par.81). The arbitrators find that “the remorse of an offender can hardly be given any weight when the same offender had in precedent occasions committed the same infringement and in those occasions had already expressed its remorse and pledged not to repeat that infringement” (par.83). Moreover, “the remorse and apologies shown by the Player after having already been sanctioned cannot have the same impact as a remorse expressed immediately after the event and before any disciplinary proceeding is started and/or sanction is imposed” (par.83). Additionally, “the disciplinary bodies could take into account the fact that the Player had already committed in two preceding occasions the very same infringement, and irrespective of the level (national) of the competition in which they had occurred” (par.87). Thus, the Panel is of the view that the discretion granted to the FIFA Appeal Committee by art.39 par. 4 FIFA DC in weighing the mitigating factors and aggravating circumstances was properly exercised (par.90). The sanction against Luis Suarez is not based on an erroneous analysis of the factual situation. Indeed, remorse can only come into play if immediately voiced, while the concept of recidivism should be interpreted widely as including a similar wrongdoing in the framework of any football competition. 

c.      The proportionality of the ban

The key argument raised by the appellants against the length (and nature) of the FIFA sanctions imposed on Luis Suarez concerned the proportionality of the sanctions (par.91-108). In that regard, FC Barcelona and Suarez argued that “the biting of the Player is not an act of extreme violence and that there was no damage or injury caused to the opposing player, as he was able to continue to play without medical assistance” (par.93), while FIFA dismissively stated that “CAS should not correct any of its decisions if it is not considered to be “evidently and grossly disproportionate to the offence”” (par.94). The Panel rejected both analyses. On the one hand, it held that “biting is absolutely foreign to football and therefore to be considered as a sort of aggravated assault” and “the fact that the opposing player was not injured could not be considered a mitigating factor in the case at hand “(par.95). However, on the other hand, it also held that “the Player is responsible (only) for the violation of art. 48 par. 1 lit. d) FIFA DC” (par.96). Therefore, “the four (4) month ban on taking part in any football-related activity and the prohibition of entering the confines of any stadiums, not allowed for a violation of art. 48 par. 1 lit. d) FIFA DC, could not be applied” (par.96). Nevertheless, due to its specific nature as an intentional assault, the biting “deserves a sanction well above the minimum level of a two match suspension and a fine indicated as such in art. 48 FIFA DC” (par.97).

In conclusion, “the Panel finds that the four (4) month ban of the Player on taking part in any football-related activity and the prohibition of entering the confines of any stadiums are not contemplated by art. 48 par. 1 lit. d) FIFA DC, and are also not appropriate to the infringement committed by the Player on the pitch” (par.104). Moreover, “the FIFA Disciplinary Committee and the FIFA Appeals Committee did not take into consideration that with the four (4) months ban of the Player on taking part in any football-related activity and from entering the confines of any stadiums, the Player actually was prohibited to train with a team and keep his fitness in order to be ready to start playing for the Club after and above this four (4) month ban” (par.105). Furthermore, “this prohibition appears to impact, without any legitimate justification in the case at hand, on the general possibility for the Player to derive profits from his image as football player – beyond the simple participation in football matches” (par.105). Besides, “no justification was offered in the Appealed Decision (beyond a generic reference to the gravity of his actions) in support of the specific sanction of the stadium ban– a measure usually imposed to hooligans, which in the case of the Player does not seem to pursue any legitimate purpose” (par.106). In light of all of this, the Panel decides “to replace the sanction of the prohibition on exercising any football-related activity for four (4) months with the sanction of a match ban (applicable to official matches played at any level) for the same period” (par.107). 

Conclusion

Luis Suarez is long back on the pitch and the practical relevance of this discussion is very limited for his future career. Yet, interesting insights can be derived from this award. Litigants in disciplinary cases involving FIFA will be interested to know that a Club, even if it is not directly part to a dispute in front of FIFA’s disciplinary bodies, might have a legitimate right to appeal a decision rendered against one of its players. More importantly, the systematic interaction between article 48 and 57 FIFA DC has been clarified. Article 48 FIFA DC constitutes a lex specialis to article 57 FIFA DC and, thus, both cannot be applied cumulatively to sanction a player more heavily. This is not to say that a very peculiar offense, like the one at hand, will not face a tough sanction. Nonetheless, a sanction imposing a drastic stadium or football-related activity ban, threatening the player’s ability to derive any revenues from his work, will be deemed disproportionate unless it is thoroughly justified. This is a clear warning not only to FIFA’s disciplinary bodies but also to any Sports Governing Body: the harsher you get, the stronger the supporting reasoning must be.

Editor's note: Ben Van Rompuy, Head of the ASSER International Sports Law Centre, was recently interviewed by LexisNexis UK for their in-house adviser service. With kind permission from LexisNexis we reproduce the interview on our blog in its entirety. 

How does competition law affect the sports sector?  

The application of EU competition law to the sports sector is a fairly recent and still unfolding development. It was only in the mid-1990s, due to the growing commercialization of professional sport, that there emerged a need to address competition issues in relation to, for instance, ticketing arrangements or the sale of media rights.  

Apart from the evident link between competition law and commercial activities related to sport, competition law also has a vital role to play in relation to the regulatory aspects of sport. Most markets for the organization of sports events are a textbook example of monopolistic markets. As a result, sports associations exercise pure monopsony power: athletes have no choice but to accept unilaterally imposed restrictions. Albeit limited to case-by-case inquiry, competition law is thus a meaningful instrument to curb the otherwise unfettered private regulatory power of sports associations. Unfortunately, it remains underutilized. Only a handful of international sports federations have truly experienced the “Bosman effect” and faced scrutiny of their regulatory activity under the EU antitrust rules.   

Have there been any important sports-related antitrust cases in recent years? 

Not at the EU level. Regarding commercial activities, the latest case dates from 2006, namely the Commission’s commitment decision on the joint selling of the Premier League media rights. And after some politically difficult uphill battles around the 2000s against FIFA and the International Automobile Federation the European Commission has been extremely reluctant to intervene in regulatory matters. Lasts year’s rejection of the complaint against UEFA’s Financial Fair Play Rules was the latest “achievement”. In the last few months, however, the Commission has received a number of new interesting complaints. 

Since the decentralization of EU antitrust enforcement in 2004, National Competition Authorities have addressed more than 40 decisions concerning the joint selling of sports media rights. For the most part, the remedy package designed by the Commission has been replicated, but there are some differences: the more widespread use of a “no single buyer” obligation and the acceptance of exclusive rights contracts exceeding three years. 

Regarding regulatory aspects, a string of recent national cases have challenged rules that disproportionally restrict athlete participation in events not organized and promoted by the official federation, notably in smaller sports such as motor sport, horseracing and bodybuilding (Ireland, Italy, Sweden). What characterizes these cases is that the remedial action was purely national in scope. In Germany, by contrast, two exploitative abuse cases are making their way up through the courts that have the potential of becoming important EU-wide precedents. Both are concerned with unfair trading conditions – a rarity these days: mandatory arbitration clauses (International Skating Union) and rules concerning the mandatory release of players to the national team without compensation (International Handball Federation).  

What other aspects of competition law are important in the sporting context? 

The State aid rules are the last unexplored frontier. For decades, national and regional public authorities have directly or indirectly financed sports organisations, sports infrastructure or individual clubs, but these measures have blissfully remained under the radar of EU State aid control. Yet in the last four years, the number of complaints against alleged unlawful State aid to professional sport, mostly football clubs, has been rising. Interestingly, citizens filed most of these complaints. 

With the enactment of the new Block Exemption Regulation and several formal decisions on for instance Belgian, French, German, and Swedish State aid for the construction and renovation of stadiums, the Commission has developed a coherent set of principles for infrastructure funding. The most complex cases are still pending. They concern land swaps/sale of State property (Spain, the Netherlands), tax advantages (Spain), and bank loans, guarantees or debt waivers (Spain, the Netherlands). The beneficiaries include top clubs like Real Madrid and Barcelona so the decisions are bound to attract huge media interest. 

Are there likely to be any developments in the future? 

Competition problems related to the sale of sports media rights will continue to arise at the national level. Public authorities will inevitably face stricter State aid control when supporting professional sports. State aid control could also be an effective instrument to put an end to the practice that selective tax exemptions for UEFA, FIFA, the IOC, etc. are a condition for applications to host international sporting events. 

The European Commission is currently examining a new complaint against FIFA’s ban on third-party ownership of players’ economic rights (TPO) in football and one concerning FIFA’s new regulations for player’s agents. These could result in high-profile cases. 

I do hope that the Commission will reclaim its responsibility for ensuring that rules and practices of international sports associations comply with EU competition law, particularly when athletes lodge complaints. National competition authorities lack the political power to confront international federations. And for most athletes, the possibility of private enforcement is not a real alternative given clauses barring access to national courts, the costs and the length of proceedings. For example, I am currently advising two Dutch Olympic speed skaters whose faith lies entirely in the hands of the Commission. They filed a complaint against the International Skating Union, who threatens them with a lifelong ban if they would participate in lucrative events outside the official calendar. The European Parliament has urged the Commission to open a formal investigation so we are optimistic that the Commission will take its responsibility and handle this case.  

What should lawyers in this field advise their clients? 

It is all about justifications. What you often see is that, in an attempt to shield certain practices from competition law scrutiny, much effort is put into arguments that, for example, sports associations or clubs are not “undertakings”. And only when these fail, recourse is made to underdeveloped arguments about the specificity of sport. Yet the true test lies here: are the restrictive effects reasonably necessary for the organization and proper conduct of sport? This obviously necessitates a good understanding of the sports sector and its internal dynamics. Even more so because competition authorities and courts typically give considerable deference to the legitimate role and expertise of sports associations in regulating their competitions.  

Given that most sports-related antitrust cases are now being addressed at the national level, there is a strong need to learn and draw from this decisional practice and case law. I am currently developing a database that reports and comments on all these cases, which should be a useful resource for those advising clients in the sports world.

Yesterday, the press revealed that the European Commission decided to reject the complaint filed by Jean-Louis Dupont, the former lawyer of Bosman, on behalf of a player agent Striani, against the UEFA Financial Fair Play (FFP) Regulations. The rejection as such is not a surprise. The Commission had repeatedly expressed support of the principles underlying the UEFA FFP. While these statements were drafted vaguely and with enough heavy caveats to protect the Commission from prejudicing a proper legal assessment, the withdrawal of its support would have been politically embarrassing.

Contrary to what is now widely assumed, this decision does not entail that UEFA FFP regulations are compatible with EU Competition Law. UEFA is clearly the big victor, but the legal reality is more complicated as it looks.

UEFA’s Austerlitz

UEFA, which most probably leaked the decision to the press, must have been enchanted by it. At a time when Europe is buzzing with rumours on the potential illegality of the UEFA FFP Regulations, it is fully vindicated by this decision. Indeed, at least in the short run, the UEFA FFP regulations will not be legally threatened anymore. Basically, for the time being, FFP is here to stay.

The European Commission’s Death Sentence to the Striani complaint

The Commission’s decision to reject the complaint is less far-reaching than one would think. The decision does not enter into the substance of the compatibility of the UEFA FFP regulations with EU Competition law. Rather, the EC has chosen the easy way out of what it must have perceived as a toxic case, with much political capital to lose for a single player agent. The elegant way out of a potential mess was to consider Striani not directly affected by the UEFA FFP Regulations. We can gather from the press reports that the Commission argued that Striani as a Player Agent was not an addressee of the FFP rules and was not substantially affected by them (as he was claiming only a symbolic euro of damages in front of the Belgian Courts), thus leaving him with no legitimate interest. Moreover, the fact that the UEFA FFP Regulations were welcomed by diverse groups of stakeholders (ECA, FIFPro) corroborates in the eyes of the Commission that there is no interest for it to act ex officio in light of such a consensus. This decision can now be contested in front of the EU General Court. However, the European Commission enjoys, in light of its very limited resources, a wide discretion in deciding which cases deserve to be investigated. Hence, it is very unlikely that the Court would annul this decision. But is it the end of the legal war?

Is a Waterloo still possible for UEFA?

After Austerlitz, came the Berezina and finally Waterloo: the war over the UEFA FFP regulations is far from done. The European Commission has not pronounced itself on the substantial merit of the claim and Dupont has still a case ongoing in front of the Belgium Courts. If it goes all the way up the legal ladder, it will most probably be referred, via the preliminary reference procedure, to the EU Court of Justice, giving it the opportunity to address the merits of the case. However, it is obvious that Player agents are perceived as the dark sheep of the football family. This is not a Bosman-like situation with a player barred from exercising his job because of a European-wide boycott and rules discriminating expressly on the ground of nationality. Therefore, we doubt that Striani will be more successful in front of the Courts. Nevertheless, if the players, for example via FIFPro, or the clubs decided to go after the UEFA FFP regulations (for now FIFPro and ECA are officially supporting FFP) it would be a completely different story. Such a complaint would be difficult to disregard by the Commission.

The Commission is certainly the guardian of Treaty, but not its interpreter. One would be ill-advised to throw caution to the wind and assume that the UEFA FFP regulations are definitely compatible with EU law. The European Commission conveniently avoided deciding on this matter. But, as Bosman reminded us, the Commission can also err in its evaluation of EU law’s bite and nothing precludes the Judges in Luxembourg from assessing the compatibility with EU law in a different way.

UEFA may have won a crucial battle, but there is still a legal war to fight.

Football-wise, 2014 will not only be remembered for the World Cup in Brazil. This year will also determine the credibility of UEFA’s highly controversial Financial Fair Play (FFP) Regulations. The FFP debate will soon be reaching a climax, since up to 76 European football clubs are facing sanctions by the UEFA Club Financial Control Body (CFCB). This large number of clubs includes two heavyweights: Manchester City and Paris Saint-Germain. On paper they face a potential disqualification from one or more editions of the UEFA Champions League. This would most certainly jeopardize the great ambition their billionaires-owners have for them and would vindicate FFP as a powerful mechanism capable of reigning in even the world’s richest football clubs. Whether this will indeed occur shall remain uncertain until the beginning of May, when UEFA is expected to announce the details of the (potential) disciplinary sanctions. However, in order to grasp the likely consequences of a sanction we offer you the definitive short introduction to FFP.

It is in the view of curtailing the, sometimes dramatic, losses made by an increasing number of football clubs, that UEFA’s Executive Committee decided to introduce the FFP Regulations in May 2010. The stated aims of FFP, stipulated in Article 2 of the Regulation include, inter alia, improving the economic and financial capability of the clubs; increasing their transparency and credibility; introducing more discipline and rationality in club football finances; encouraging clubs to operate on the basis of their own revenues; and protecting the long-term viability and sustainability of European club football. On UEFA’s own website a further aim was mentioned, namely to decrease pressure on salaries and transfer fees.

To achieve these aims, UEFA has introduced the break-even requirement[1]. By this requirement, clubs must demonstrate that their revenue exceeds or equals expenditure. The club’s spending on transfers and employee benefits (including wages) will be counted as expenditure, whereas income from gate receipts, TV revenue, advertising, merchandising, sales of players, and prize money is regarded as revenue. Any money spent on infrastructure, training facilities or youth development will not be included in the assessment.

In accordance with article 68 of FFP Regulations and article 3 of the Procedural rules governing the UEFA Club Financial Control Body, the CFCB is competent to inter alia determine whether clubs fulfil the break-even requirement and impose disciplinary measures in the event of non-fulfilment of the requirement. A first assessment is undertaken by the investigatory chamber, which leads the monitoring process, the investigation proceedings, and collects evidence. At the end of the investigation, the CFCB chief investigator, Jean-Luc Dehaene, after having consulted with the other members of the investigatory chamber, may decide to: (a) Dismiss the case; (b) Conclude, with the consent of the club in question, a settlement agreement; (c) Apply, with the consent of the club in question, a disciplinary measure limited to a warning, a reprimand or a fine up to a maximum amount of EUR 100,000; or (d) Refer the case to the adjudicatory chamber.[2] It should be noted that this is the phase the 76 clubs find themselves in right now.

Should the investigatory chamber decide to refer the case to the adjudicatory chamber, then the adjudicatory chamber can decide to: (a) Dismiss the case; (b) Accept or reject the club’s admission to the UEFA club competition in question; (c) Impose disciplinary measures; or (d) Uphold, reject, or modify a decision of the CFCB chief investigator[3]. A final decision by the adjudicatory chamber will be made before the end of the current season at the latest.

Concerning more specifically the disciplinary measures, Article 29 of the Procedural rules provides a long list of potential measures including fines, deduction of points, withdrawal of a title or award and disqualification from competitions in progress and/or exclusion from future competitions. Undoubtedly, for teams like Manchester City and Paris Saint-Germain whose greatest ambition is to be successful in Europe’s most prestigious tournaments, a disqualification from European competitions would be the most severe disciplinary sanction possible.

Furthermore, the Procedural rules governing the UEFA Club Financial Control Body give the sanctioned party the possibility to appeal against the decision. The appeal should be launched in accordance with article 34 of the Procedural rules, which states that final decisions of the CFCB may only be appealed before the Court of Arbitration for Sport (CAS) in accordance with the relevant provisions of the UEFA Statutes.

Whether the CAS will have to pronounce itself on a specific case regarding FFP in the upcoming months will largely depend on the scope of the decisions adopted by the investigatory chamber later this week and then by the adjudicatory chamber in the upcoming month. The effectiveness, credibility and, more broadly, the future of the FFP Regulations are at stake. This is either the beginning of the end for FFP or the end of the beginning. 

A story to be continued…

[1] UEFA Club Licensing and Financial Fair Play Regulations. Edition 2012, Articles 58-63

[2] UEFA Procedural rules governing the UEFA Club Financial Control Body. Edition 2014, Articles 12-14

[3] Ibid, Article 27

The first part of this series looked at the legal framework in which FFP sits, concluding that FFP occupied a ‘marginal’ legal position – perhaps legal, perhaps not. Given the significant financial interests in European football – UEFA’s figures suggest aggregate revenue of nearly €17 billion as at clubs’ 2015 accounts – and the close correlation between clubs’ spending on wages and their success on the field,^[1] a legal challenge to the legality of FFP’s ‘break even’ requirement (the Break Even Requirement), which restricts a particular means of spending, was perhaps inevitable.

And so it followed.

Challenges to the legality of the Break Even Requirement have been brought by football agent Daniel Striani, through various organs of justice of the European Union and through the Belgian courts; and by Galatasaray in the Court of Arbitration for Sport. As an interesting footnote, both Striani and Galatasaray were advised by “avocat superstar” Jean-Louis Dupont, the lawyer who acted in several of sports law’s most famous cases, including the seminal Bosman case. Dupont has been a vocal critic of FFP’s legality since its inception.

Mr Striani’s Complaints

Initially, Mr Striani made a complaint to the European Commission to the effect that the Break Even Requirement breached European competition law, and that it restricts several fundamental freedoms of the European Union guaranteed by the Treaty of the Functioning of the European Union (TFEU); namely, the right to free movement of people (Article 45 TFEU), the right to free movement of capital (Article 56 TFEU), and the right to free movement of services (Article 63 TFEU).

In his complaint to the Commission, Mr Striani identified five anti-competitive effects of the Break Even Requirement:

1. It restricts external investment into football;
2. It will have the effect of calcifying the hierarchy of the game, preventing ‘small’ clubs from competing at higher levels;
3.  It will depress the transfer market;
4.  It will depress players’ wages; and
5. It will therefore adversely affect players’ agents’ revenue.

Superficially at least, each point above has merit and internal logic. Equally, there are coherent rebuttals. For balance, some (of the various) potential counter arguments are listed below:

1. From the outset, FFP has not altogether restricted exogenous investment into football and loss making (regardless of quantum) has been permissible for certain expenditure. Rather than restricting investment, FFP funnels loss-making investment in certain directions such as stadium and infrastructure spending.
2. There is little movement in football’s sporting hierarchy under any model. The evidence suggests that those clubs who spend the most on wages tend to experience the most success on the pitch;^[2] however, it is questionable whether there is inherent merit in supplanting the clubs that are best able to maximise revenue generation with those that have the owners most willing to fund losses. Under either model, those with the most money to expend on players’ wages will usually win.^[3]
3. It is reductive to equate a healthy, functioning transfer market with clubs’ rights to make losses; nor is it of intrinsic value to the sport for transfers to be significant in magnitude, whether in cost or volume.
4. Owners’ equity inputs are far from the only source of salary growth. In any event, further consideration should be given as to whether, if a deflationary effect can be established, this is a function of the top end of the salary scale being depressed reducing mean salary, or whether the impact is felt by in modal or median salary. Ultimately, FFP could depress wages on an aggregate basis but still benefit most players should median or modal wages improve in a more financially stable environment.
5. Players’ intermediaries may not have a sufficiently proximate interest in the financial regulatory aspects of clubs’ spending. UEFA’s rule-making power is given effect and legitimacy by way of complex contractual relationship between players, clubs and the sport’s governing bodies and intermediaries do not have privity of contract with UEFA insofar as FFP is concerned.

Mr Striani also brought a claim, on similar legal basis, in the Belgian national courts (Mr Striani being based in Belgium). In part because of these collateral proceedings, the Commission rejected Mr Striani’s complaint. In a press release, Mr Dupont confirmed that the Commission had given its view to the effect that Mr Striani, being an agent and therefore not directly subject to FFP, lacked a legitimate interest in the rules, and that the Belgian national courts, already having been seized of the case, were a suitable forum for a hearing of the merits.

Mr Striani was joined by various other parties in his claim in the Belgian courts. However, Mr Striani (along with his co-complainants) was again frustrated on technical grounds outwith the substantive issues of his dispute.  The Belgian court found that it did not have jurisdiction to hear the dispute, because, to put it simply, under the relevant jurisdictional rules (the Lugano Convention), UEFA was entitled to be sued in the courts of its place of domicile, i.e Switzerland. Ben van Rompuy goes into more detail on the jurisdictional nuances here.

Somewhat oddly, given its self-proclaimed jurisdictional incompetence, the Belgian Courts did make an order referring the case to the Court of Justice of the European Union (CJEU).

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the CJEU rejected the referral on the basis that it was “manifestly inadmissible,” and also “observing that the national court had failed to provide any of the necessary information to enable the European Court to address European competition law issues.”^[4]

This puts Mr Striani’s complaint into no man’s land. Rejected by the Commission; rejected by the Belgian national courts; and rejected by the CJEU; all without any substantive adjudicative decision as to the legality of the Break Even Requirement. Irrespective of one’s views on FFP, it is a source of frustration that five years on from FFP’s introduction, its legality remains an unresolved question despite vigorous and not frivolous challenge. Mr Striani’s challenges have, to date, proven impotent in settling the (increasingly academic) debate.

Evidently frustrated at the Commission’s refusal to formally review the legality of FFP, Mr Striani went on to make a complaint to the EU Ombudsman alleging maladministration by Vice President of the Commission at the material time, Joaquín Almunia. The complaint centred on Mr Almunia’s association with Athletic Bilbao and his prior statements perceived as endorsing FFP. However, the Ombudsman found no maladministration to have occurred. 

Galatasaray’s CAS Appeal

There is, however, a forum in which a decision has been made as to the legality of the Break Even Requirement; namely the Court of Arbitration for Sport (CAS) in Galatasary v UEFA (CAS 2016/A/4492). Galatasaray, like Mr Striani, were represented by Mr Dupont; and, like Mr Striani, the basis of Galatasaray’s case was that the Break Even Requirement breached EU competition law and illegally trammelled EU fundamental freedoms as to workers, services and capital.

The context of the dispute was as follows: Galatasaray was investigated by the UEFA Club Financial Control Body (CFCB), which, as mentioned in Part One, oversees and enforces adherence to FFP, in respect of a potential breach of FFP, and in particular the Break Even Requirement. The procedural rules governing the CFCB allow clubs to enter into a ‘settlement agreement’ at the discretion and direction of the CFCB Chief Investigator.

The CFCB Chief Investigator determined that Galatasaray had breached the Break Even Requirement and a settlement agreement was reached that provided, inter alia, that the Turkish club must “be break even compliant…at the latest in the monitoring period 2015/16,” and that the club must not increase its aggregate wage bill, which stood at €90m.

Galatasaray hopelessly failed to meet either stipulation, increasing their wage bill by €5.5m and exceeding the acceptable deviation figure in Break Even Requirement by €134.2m. These figures were audited and verified by independent consultants.

In view of this egregious breach of the settlement agreement, the Investigatory Chamber referred Galatasaray to the Adjudicatory Chamber, who, on 2 March 2016, issued a decision ordering, inter alia, that Galatasaray reduce their wage bill to a maximum of €65m over the next two FFP reporting periods, and banning the club from any European competitions for which they otherwise qualified on sporting merit for the next two seasons.

Galatasaray appealed this decision to the CAS, arguing that the sanctions levied by UEFA were illegal because the rules on which they were based, i.e. the FFP rules, were illegal.

If the basis of Galatasaray’s appeal (breach of competition law, breach of fundamental freedoms) is familiar to those with a knowledge of the legal issues FFP presents, so too will be UEFA’s defence of the Break Even Requirement. UEFA argued that the Break Even Requirement constitutes rules that “are prudential rules necessary for the proper functioning of football clubs,” and “Any restriction they may cause pursues legitimate governance objectives and is proportionate to their achievement.”^[5] (Emphasis added.) 

UEFA’s view is clearly intended to align FFP with the legal tests identified in Part One of this series; namely that FFP must be:

1. Necessary (for the proper conduct of the sport);
2.  Suitable (as a means to pursue that necessary objective); and
3. Proportionate (to the aims pursued).

Applicability of EU Law

The non-application of EU law by the CAS has previously been called ‘an absurdity’ by this blog “in light of the Bosman (and prior Walrave) case law of the CJEU, which made clear that EU law is applicable to the regulations of Sports Governing Bodies”.

In this case, UEFA postulated that EU law was “irrelevant” to the dispute – the parties both being from Turkey and Switzerland respectively, i.e. nations outside of the EU – but “did not argue” that FFP is “not subject to the invoked provisions of EU law or can be applicable even if contrary to these provisions.”^[6] Galatasaray argued that EU law applied as FFP constitutes mandatory rules in EU territory. The parties agreed that Swiss law applied.

The CAS panel of arbitrators (the Panel) found that EU law, being a foreign mandatory rule, applied pursuant to Article 19 of the Swiss Federal Act on Private International Law, under which arbitral tribunals must consider foreign mandatory rules where:

i.       such rules belong to a special category of norms which need to be applied irrespective of the law applicable to the merits of the case;

ii.      there is a close connection between the subject matter of the dispute and the territory where the mandatory rules are in force; and

iii.    in view of Swiss legal theory and practice, the mandatory rules must aim to protect legitimate interest and crucial values and their application must lead to a decision which is appropriate.

The Panel found that this test had been met on the facts in this instance. As an interesting side note, the CAS also followed this line of reasoning in the subsequent Third Party Ownership case discussed by Antoine Duval here.

Article 101 TFEU

The first hurdle for Galatasaray in establishing the illegality of the Break Even Requirement is to show that it fits within the boundaries of the prohibition laid down in Article 101 TFEU, i.e. that it has as its object or effect the prevention, restriction or distortion of competition within the European internal market.

The Panel found that FFP did not have anti-competitive intent as its object. On its face, this seems a reasonable conclusion; after all, FFP is not intended to stymie inter-club competition. However, it should not be treated as axiomatic. As Weatherill has highlighted, “UEFA’s own website (though not the FFP Regulations themselves) identify as one of the principal objectives to decrease pressure on salaries and transfer fees and limit inflationary effect”. Whether such effect was an independent goal of UEFA in instituting FFP rather than mere political bluster is open to question, but the objectives of UEFA should be subject to further interrogation.

In this instance, the Panel found that Galatasaray “failed to demonstrate that the object of [FFP] would not be stated in its Article 2 [dealing with FFP objects]”. Having considered the question, the Panel “did not find convincing evidence that the object of [FFP] would be to distort competition, i.e. to favour of disfavour certain clubs rather than to prevent clubs from trading at levels above their resources”.

Thus in order to be caught within the prohibition under Article 101 TFEU, Galatasaray would need to show that FFP had an anti-competitive effect. As FFP did not fall within the examples given in the Commission’s guidance on anti-competitive agreements (horizontal/vertical), the burden of proof fell on Galatasaray to demonstrate FFP’s anti-competitive effects.

They did not do so. However – and frustratingly for those with an interest in the topic – Galatasaray did not actually adduce any detailed empirical analysis as to the effects of FFP on competition (para. 74).

Irrespective of the lack of empirical evidence put forward, the Panel expressed a view that “competition is not distorted by ‘overspending’” (para. 76); nor does FFP ossify the structure of the market as “dominant clubs have always existed and will continue to exist”. The latter point is superficially correct; however, it fails to address the fact that the Break Even Requirement may have prevented clubs from entry to the ‘dominant club’ position of superiority. 

The Panel went on to cite with approval the applicability of the carve-out for regulatory rules developed in Wouters, as discussed in more detail in Part One of this series.

Article 102 TFEU

Galatasaray produced evidence that UEFA was a dominant undertaking (which, given UEFA is a governing body with total authority over the rules of elite European football, is a case easily made), but it did not show how it was abusing its position in the case of FFP. Thus the Panel found that Galatasaray did not demonstrate an abuse of dominance by UEFA.

Fundamental Freedoms

Galatasaray argued that the Break Even Requirement violated fundamental freedoms of the EU as to the free movement of workers, the free movement of capital, and the free movement of services. However, it submitted “very little argumentation” in support of these claims (para. 85).

The Panel highlighted the fact that FFP does not discriminate based on nationality, as the rules apply equally to all clubs participating in UEFA competitions; that the rules apply equally to “domestic operations” (para. 86); and “do not restrict fundamental freedoms: players can be transferred (or offer services cross-border without limitations; capitals can move from a EU country to another without any limit.”

Ergo, the Panel found Galatasaray had not shown any breach of a fundamental freedom of the EU.

Swiss Law

Galatasaray did not invoke the relevant provisions of Swiss competition law in detail; however, the Panel noted that the substantive nature of Swiss competition law was analogous to EU competition law, diverging only in respect of reference to the domestic market. Accordingly, the Panel’s reasoning “would be the same” (para. 89). 

The CAS’s Finding

Galatasaray did not establish its case and as such its appeal was not upheld by the CAS and the CFCB’s decision was confirmed. UEFA successfully defended the first hearing on the substantive legal issues of the Break Even Requirement. 

An Illusory Victory for UEFA?

UEFA may have successfully fended off a binding determination of the legal issues at play in challenges brought in domestic and European courts, albeit on procedural grounds; and it may have won the first serious challenge to the substantive legal issues at play in the CAS, albeit aided by a lack of proper particularisation of some of the issues by Galatasaray; but it is debatable whether it was able to altogether insulate FFP from the effect of these challenges. In the years since its inception, the nature and content of the rules has gradually shifted towards a more liberal approach to external investment, and in all probability this was influenced by the vehemence of the legal challenges to the rules.

At the outset of Mr Striani’s challenge to FFP, his lawyer, Mr Dupont, said "What my client hopes is that Uefa will be forced to review this rule and go for more proportionate alternatives”.  He may not have achieved this through a favourable determination of the courts; however, as will be examined in greater detail in Part Three of this series, he may have ultimately been successful in his objectives to some extent.

^[1] See, for example, Kuper, S and Szymanski, S 2012 Soccernomics 2nd ed. London: HarperSport at p14

^[2] See Kuper, S and Szymanski, S 2012 Soccernomics 2nd ed. London: HarperSport

^[3] It should be noted, however, that Mr Dupont has argued that a flat salary cap – in many ways more restrictive than the Break Even Requirement – would be preferable, see Stefano Bastianon, 'The Striani Challenge to UEFA Financial Fair-Play A New Era after Bosman or Just a Washout?' [2015] 11(1) The Competition Law Review 7-39 at p18

^[4] Daniel Geey, LawInSport and BASL Sport Law Year Book 2015 - 2016 (Sean Cottrell ed, LawInSport 2016) at p108

^[5] Para 50

^[6] Para 39

Editor's Note: Marjolaine is a researcher and attorney admitted to the Geneva bar (Switzerland) who specialises in sports and life sciences. Her interests focus on interdisciplinary approaches as a way of designing effective solutions in the field of anti-doping and other science-based domains. Her book “Evidence in Anti-Doping at the Intersection of Science & Law” was published through T.M.C Asser Press / Springer in late 2015. She participates as a co-author on a project hosted by the University of Neuchâtel to produce the first article-by-article legal commentary of the 2021 World Anti-Doping Code. In her practice, she regularly advises international federations and other sports organisations on doping and other regulatory matters, in particular on aspects of scientific evidence, privacy or research regulation. She also has experience assisting clients in arbitration proceedings before the Court of Arbitration for Sport or other sport tribunals.

Since the spectre of the EU General Data Protection Regulation (‘GDPR’) has loomed over the sports sector,[1] a new wind seems to be blowing on anti-doping, with a palpable growing interest for stakes involved in data processing. Nothing that would quite qualify as a wind of change yet, but a gentle breeze of awareness at the very least.

Though the GDPR does mention the fight against doping in sport as a potential matter of public health in its recitals,[2] EU authorities have not gone so far as to create a standalone ground on which anti-doping organisations could rely to legitimise their data processing. Whether or not anti-doping organisations have a basis to process personal data – and specifically sensitive data – as part of their anti-doping activities, thus remains dependent on the peculiarities of each national law. Even anti-doping organisations that are incorporated outside the EU are affected to the extent they process data about athletes in the EU.[3] This includes international sports federations, many of which are organised as private associations under Swiss law. Moreover, the Swiss Data Protection Act (‘DPA’) is currently under review, and the revised legal framework should largely mirror the GDPR, subject to a few Swiss peculiarities. All anti-doping organisations undertake at a minimum to abide by the WADA International Standard for Privacy and the Protection of Personal Information (‘ISPPPI’), which has been adapted with effect to 1 June 2018 and enshrines requirements similar to those of the GDPR. However, the ISPPPI stops short of actually referring to the GDPR and leaves discretion for anti-doping organisations to adapt to other legislative environments.

The purpose of this blog is not to offer a detailed analysis of the requirements that anti-doping organisations must abide by under data protection laws, but to highlight how issues around data processing have come to crystallise key challenges that anti-doping organisations face globally. Some of these challenges have been on the table since the adoption of the first edition of the World Anti-Doping Code (‘WADC’) but are now exposed in the unforgiving light of data protection requirements.

Who is who and who does what?

It is hardly a scoop for those familiar with the World Anti-Doping Program to state that its structures are complex, relying on an intricate network of private entities as well as public (or quasi-public) agencies, each subject to their own applicable laws. The World Anti-Doping Program has always struggled with reconciling its objectives of global harmonisation with the sovereignty and diversity of national laws. National Anti-Doping Organisations (‘NADO’s) operate at the national level; they are in charge of doping issues across all sports in one country and are endowed with more or less extensive enforcement powers depending on their country’s regulatory approach to the sport sector. By contrast, international federations claim exclusive governance over one sport worldwide, uniformly and without regard to national borders but have to do so with the instruments available to private entities based on contractual or similar tools of private autonomy.

Over time, the WADC has been repeatedly updated to strike a balance between the two (national versus international) spheres and avoid positive or negative conflicts of competence. Provisions seek to clarify attributions in areas where international- and national-level competences collide, such as roles in Therapeutic Use Exemption (‘TUE’) management, testing authority, or results management responsibilities.[4] Even as it is, there is no safeguard to prevent disputes from arising about the proper authority to investigate and initiate proceedings for doping.[5]

Data processing activities are not exempted from the difficulties that accompany the complexity of anti-doping. If anything, these difficulties are rather exacerbated by data protection laws. In particular, the GDPR seeks to create a framework within which data subjects can easily recognise when data is being processed about them, by whom and to what aim(s), and whom to turn to in order to exercise their rights. This forces anti-doping organisations to be precise and unambiguous about their respective roles and attributions among themselves and chiefly towards the data subjects, the athletes subject to doping control.

The GDPR draws a distinction between two major categories of entities that process personal data: an entity can be characterised either as a data ‘controller’, or as a data ‘processor’. A controller is defined as an entity which “alone or jointly with others, determines the purposes and means of the processing of personal data”. A processor is an entity “which processes personal data on behalf of” a controller.[6]

The distinction may seem rather straightforward at first sight: the controller has a personal or commercial interest in the data processing and decides which data to collect, from whom, and through what means. At the other end of the spectrum, a ‘typical’ processor receives documented instructions from a controller and merely implements these instructions with no autonomy of decision or an autonomy limited to technical issues and logistics. However, interrelationships are often much more subtle in reality with considerable room for borderline situations: multiple controllers may need to agree on their (joint) controllership of the data while operating alongside entities that may act in part as processors, in part as controllers of their own right for different aspects of the data processing.[7]

In anti-doping, more than half a dozen entities may be involved in a routine doping control activity, between test planning and the outcome of a disciplinary process. All of these will either collect or gain access to athlete data, including sensitive data, as illustrated by the following: an international federation decides to conduct blood testing on an athlete from its registered testing pool but delegates sample collection to the NADO of the country in which the athlete is currently residing. To do so, the NADO has access to the athlete’s whereabouts filings through the ADAMS database, managed by the World Anti-Doping Agency (‘WADA’). The NADO itself carries out sample collection through a private service provider with its dedicated blood control officers and decides to use the opportunity to order, in addition, the collection of urine samples from the athlete. Upon sampling, the athlete is asked to fill in the doping control form in front of the doping control personnel, which includes disclosing several ongoing medication courses in the dedicated box. Samples are then transported, in a de-identified (‘coded’) form, by private courier from the country of collection to the international federation’s usual WADA-accredited laboratory in a different country.

Assuming the laboratory reports an adverse analytical finding in the blood sample, the international federation requests a full documentation package from the laboratory and verifies whether a Therapeutic Use Exemption on the record could be related to the adverse analytical finding. Upon notification of the results and public announcement of the immediate provisional suspension, the athlete requests the analysis of the B sample, thereby de facto lifting the code on the A sample where the laboratory is concerned. The athlete submits a series of explanations regarding the possible causes for the adverse analytical finding, including a report from his treating physician regarding a medical condition that might account for the findings. The international federation may send the laboratory documentation package and athlete explanations to external experts for additional input and then hands over the file to its external anti-doping tribunal members. Most data will at some point have to pass through the ADAMS database and be stored within that database for up to ten years. However, it may also be communicated by other (electronic or physical) means among anti-doping organisations and their service providers and experts.

Once the disciplinary decision is issued, its main elements are publicly disclosed by the international federation on its website, and the decision shared with WADA and any NADO having jurisdiction over the athlete. The NADO further decides to send the negative urine sample for long-term storage and possible reanalysis to the WADA-accredited laboratory that provides its storage facilities.

The above description represents an imaginary but ultimately rather standard situation for anti-doping organisations. It does not seem too far-fetched to identify that the international federation at the very least acts as a controller of the athlete data processed. However, a NADO who receives instructions to collect samples and also decides to collect additional data (and additional biological materials) on its own and for its own purposes, potentially acts as both a processor and controller depending on the data at stake. A number of processors and sub-processors are involved in the process as service providers, while the qualification of external experts may have to be assessed on a case-by-case basis. WADA offers the ADAMS database as an IT infrastructure for data storage and sharing for the international federation and NADO but also uses the data to fulfil its own obligations and purposes under the WADC, such as exercising its appeal rights or verifying compliance of the anti-doping organisations with their duties. Arguably, at the very least there will be three controllers of data (international federation, NADO, and WADA) in addition to multiple processors and sub-processors.

Characterising the role of each entity as a ‘controller’ or as a ‘processor’ is far from being of academic interest only. The two types of entities have distinct responsibilities and requirements for lawful processing. Appropriate contractual arrangements need to be set up among the entities involved, and data subjects must be informed of these in a comprehensible manner allowing them to exercise their rights. Controllers have primary responsibility for dealing with data subject requests and responding to supervisory authorities and have a more extensive scope of liability across the entire scope of data processing. By contrast, processors are, in essence, only liable for their own processing activities and merely undertake to support the controllers in their obligations towards data subjects and authorities.[8]

There is one other important difference that carries special significance in the context of anti-doping: a processor who acts under instructions can rely on the processing contract with the controller responsible for the data as a lawful basis for processing.[9] By contrast, if two or more parties qualify as controllers in their own right, each controller needs to secure its individual lawful basis with respect to the data subjects. The requirement of lawful processing is entwined with the discussion around the validity of ‘consent’ to anti-doping regulations.

Lawful basis and problematic character of consent

Processing of personal data under the GDRP requires a lawful basis. As relevant to our topic, three types of legitimising grounds co-exist: i.) grounds rooted in private autonomy (consent or necessity for performance of a contract with the data subject), ii.) grounds relying on public interest or overriding interests of the controller (e.g. pursuing a legal claim), or iii.) a specific basis in Union or national law, e.g. for performance of a substantial public interest or public health task.[10] Not all grounds enter into consideration for every category of data; special categories of data – also known as ‘sensitive’ data under the DPA – have a more limited number of valid processing grounds.[11] Obviously, a major part of data processed as part of doping control qualifies as sensitive data as it relates to health,[12] including the data gathered through analysis of doping control samples or collected as part of TUE applications.

The traditional way for international sports organisations to impose their rules on their ultimate addressees, i.e., the individual athletes, has been through contract, quasi-contractual chains of submission, or other instruments involving a declaration of consent. The validity of consent on the part of those who submit to anti-doping regulations is a recurring matter for debate, in particular as its informed and voluntary character is generally described at best as limited and more frequently as purely illusory. The issue has been scrutinised in particular with respect to submission to proceedings before the Court of Arbitration for Sport (‘CAS’),[13] which the WADC imposes as a legal remedy in international doping disputes. While acknowledging the ‘constrained’ nature of the athlete’s consent, the Swiss Supreme Court accepts the validity of arbitration clauses in sports regulations in the name of the needs for swift and competent resolution of sport disputes. It has, however, imposed certain limits on the extent to which an athlete can entrust their fate to the sports resolution system. As decided in the Cañas v. ATP case, an athlete cannot validly waive in advance the right to challenge the CAS award in front of the Supreme Court in disciplinary matters.[14] In Pechstein v. Switzerland, the European Court of Human Rights (‘ECtHR’) was asked to discuss the status of an arbitration clause in the context of doping proceedings. It reached the same conclusion that the only choice offered to the athlete was either to accept the clause in order to be able to make a living by practising her sport at a professional level or to refuse it and completely give up on practising at such level. As a result of this restriction on the athlete’s professional life, it was not possible to argue that she accepted the clause ‘in a free and unequivocal manner’.[15]

In both cases, the findings were ultimately of little consequence for the sports sector. The Swiss Supreme Court only reviews CAS awards through an extremely narrow lens so that the power to set strategic jurisprudence in sports matters remains with the CAS panels, whether or not athletes retain their rights to challenge the award. Similarly, in the Claudia Pechstein matter, the only shortcoming found in the ruling was the lack of an option for a public hearing in CAS proceedings. Absence of genuine consent has thus been – expressly or implicitly – compensated for by courts through procedural safeguards, in an effort to ensure that athletes still benefit overall from a system of justice broadly compliant with Article 6 of the European Convention on Human Rights.

Data protection issues create a greater challenge here, since the GDPR explicitly requires consent to be ‘freely given’, in addition to being informed.[16] The same is true under the Swiss DPA.[17] The GDPR does not accommodate compensatory mechanisms to account for the ‘fictional’ character of consent in the sports context: consent that is not optional is not free, and consent that is not free is not valid. Importantly, free consent also presupposes that consent can be withdrawn at any time as easily as it was given and without significant detrimental consequences for the data subject.[18]

I will not delve here into how anti-doping organisations can fulfil the requirement of ‘informed consent’, which as per the GDPR requires “intelligible and easily accessible form, using clear and plain language”.[19] The template information notices (here and here) proposed by WADA currently in effect inform athletes, in essence, that their data may be processed based on various legal grounds, may be accessed by various entities around the world according to various data protections laws, which may offer them various levels of protection, and that they may have various rights and obligations under these laws. It is questionable whether explanations in this form would satisfy the requirements for informed consent. Still, adequate information appears at least achievable with appropriate and individualised legal drafting supported by a data protection specialist. The question of free consent is a much more delicate one since it is not in the hands of anti-doping organisations to give athletes a genuine choice in this respect.

In spite of the potential financial implications, one could argue that consent is freely given where the athlete can choose at any time to withdraw consent to data processing, with the sole consequence of losing the benefit of the services attached to the ‘contractual’ relationship with their sports authorities, i.e. the right to participate in sports competitions. This would, for example, suppose that an athlete notified of a testing attempt could elect to either submit or instead declare immediate retirement from sport without any further consequences. Under the current rules, however, such withdrawal of consent would trigger disciplinary sanctions, which may include ineligibility or fines depending on the sport, and in any event, will have a significant impact on the athlete’s reputation. The templates proposed by WADA explicitly warn athletes about these consequences, as well as the fact that anti-doping organisations may retain and continue processing their data in spite of any withdrawal (see here and here). In fact, the WADC provides that the results management and disciplinary process may be initiated or may continue in spite of the athlete announcing their retirement from sport.[20]

To this day, one is still awaiting a realistic proposal that would allow consent to anti-doping regulations to be genuinely freely given. Most stakeholders would agree that there is no viable manner of making compliance with anti-doping rules optional for athletes without undermining the very notion of a level playing field.[21] Unlike the relatively benign implications that lack of genuine consent had for the sport dispute resolution system so far, the impossibility of creating the prerequisites for free consent to anti-doping regulations is far more consequential in the data protection context. Indeed, it precludes reliance on consent as a reliable lawful basis that can be used globally by international sports governing bodies to secure the lawfulness of their data processing. This is the case unless courts would be willing to go against the explicit wording of data protection laws and tolerate ‘forced’ consent as a lawful basis in the context of sport.

As the Swiss Federal Council noted in their official communication on the Swiss Sport Act, the questionable validity of athlete consent makes it necessary to create express legal provisions authorising anti-doping organisations to collect and process personal data for anti-doping purposes.[22] Under the GDPR, processing sensitive data relying on an interest of substantial public or public health interest equally requires a legal basis in EU or relevant national law of a member state. Without intervention of national lawmakers to recognise anti-doping as a matter of ‘substantial public interest’ or ‘public health’ interest and identify those entities that are entitled by law to process data together with an appropriate description of the admissible scope and purposes for such processing, sports organisations will continue to rest on shaky ground when it comes to data processing and in particular processing of sensitive data.

Proportionality of treatment

The issue of proportionality is relevant for almost any component of an anti-doping system. It is recognised by CAS panels and courts as an internationally accepted standard,[23] as part of the assessment for deciding whether an encroachment upon individual freedoms is justifiable and justified in any given case. Proportionality is frequently debated in connection with the severity of the disciplinary sanctions set forth in the WADC,[24] but it is also a test that every other aspect of the regulation must stand up to.[25]

An important limb of the proportionality test is the ‘necessity’ of a measure having regard to the rights affected. This aspect was recently addressed by the European Court for Human Rights in the context of French legislation on the whereabouts regime applicable to professional athletes and its compatibility with privacy: “the general‑interest considerations that make them necessary are particularly important and, in the Court’s view, justify the restrictions on the applicants’ rights under Article 8 of the Convention. Reducing or removing the requirements of which the applicants complain would be liable to increase the dangers of doping to their health and that of the entire sporting community, and would run counter to the European and international consensus on the need for unannounced testing.”[26] The ECtHR conducted its assessment with respect to the right to privacy under Article 8 of the European Convention on Human Rights without having regard to specific data protection provisions.

The requirement of proportionality is a pillar of data protection in all its aspects, from the decision to collect the data to its retention. It is enshrined both in the GDPR and in the DPA[27] and is notably also highlighted in the WADA ISPPPI.[28] Concerns about proportionality of the anti-doping system were expressed by EU data protection advisory authorities as early as 2008,[29] and numerous exchanges with WADA have ensued.[30] Various adjustments have been made to the ISPPPI since then with a significant review to adapt the ISPPPI to the GDPR requirements, and a new set of WADA Guidelines adopted in 2018.

Still, the threats on proportionality are bound to be ubiquitous in a context where standardisation is a guiding principle of regulation. For example, the ISPPPI (Annex A) enshrines retention times based on different categories of data (TUE, samples, whereabouts, etc.), but with only two different retention periods overall: 18 months (newly being reconsidered in the draft revised version as 12 months) or 10 years. These have been criticised again in the ongoing stakeholder consultation process as being insufficiently differentiated to be adequate.[31] Indeed, while a column in the Annex formally indicates for each category that the retention time has been chosen based on “necessity” or “proportionality” criteria, Annex A states in limine that the limitation to two retention periods is “for practical reasons”. These justifications cannot be easily reconciled. To properly account for proportionality, anti-doping organisations would need to conduct their own assessment in a more individualised fashion, adapted to their athlete pool and sport. However, as in many other domains of doping control, one wonders how many of them will have the resources, competences and willingness to look beyond WADA prescriptions. Also, since most of the data must be processed through the ADAMS database managed by WADA, anti-doping organisations may have limited effective power over the set-up of the data deletion process.

The proportionality principle is also connected to another fundamental requirement, which is that data processing must remain within the ‘purpose’ defined (‘purpose limitation’ principle). The ISPPPI contains a list of purposes for which anti-doping organisations may process data. However, the ISPPPI gives anti-doping organisations an option to decide to process data for other purposes related to the fight against doping, provided they carry out a documented assessment. The WADA Guidelines propose a template for ‘new purpose assessment’, and indicate that such new purpose could encompass purposes that were not contemplated in the WADC nor perhaps could even be envisaged at the time of collection. The draft revised ISPPPI seems to go even further down this line: “In certain contexts, it may be appropriate or necessary for Anti-Doping Organizations/WADA to Process Personal Information for additional purposes, […] besides those already permitted or required by the Code, the International Standard or expressly required by law, in order to engage effectively in the fight against doping”.[32] It is unclear how this assessment is to be effectively implemented especially for sensitive data, be it under the assumption of a consensual basis or of one based on national law recognising substantial public interests for anti-doping activities. In both cases, if the actual purposes for which the data may be used are in limbo awaiting potential reassessment for ‘new’ purposes, it is questionable whether informed consent or a sufficiently predictable legal basis respectively could even be created.[33]

As the claims for more ‘evidence-based’ approaches and stronger monitoring of anti-doping programs grow louder, more thought could be spent on proportionality and purpose limitation of data processing in anti-doping. Most of the discussion so far has revolved around the intrusiveness of the whereabouts requirements. Whereabouts information, however, is only collected from a limited number of high-profile athletes (i.e., those included within a registered testing pool) and is only a fraction of the data collected as part of anti-doping programs. In the FNASS et al. v. France ruling, the ECtHR essentially relied on the pleas of the anti-doping movement and governments to find that the fight against doping pursues a public health interest and implements it in a proportionate way. In doing so, the ECtHR seems to perpetuate a tendency of CAS and other courts to take policy documents and consensus statements - whether enshrined or not in international law instruments such as the UNESCO Convention against Doping in Sport - as proof of the reality of the claims they contain[34] without requiring much supporting evidence. In many instances, this is technically justified by placing on the contesting party the burden of demonstrating any lack of proportionality.[35] On a higher level, however, it tends to create a presumption that any doubt must benefit the cause of anti-doping.[36] This may lead to self-perpetuating policy biases based on circular reasoning by justifying new measures through previous, unverified claims.

Data protection laws, with their detailed requirements and descriptions of data subject rights, may offer a foundation for a more granular analysis than general human rights provisions under the undetermined heading of ‘privacy’. Opportunities for legal analysis may still be hindered by the fact that an argument related to data protection is hard to build into a defence when athletes – or their counsel – would typically start seriously thinking about these issues only once they become subject to investigations or discipline for a potential breach of the anti-doping rules. CAS panels have been rather generous in admitting evidence unlawfully obtained against individuals charged in disciplinary proceedings.[37] It could thus prove extremely difficult – perhaps even counter-productive as a defence strategy – for an athlete to object to the admissibility of doping control data obtained in breach of data protection laws, in particular when the objection relates to a breach that leaves as much discretion to the panel as proportionality of data collection or retention. CAS panels have repeatedly recognised the fight against doping as an interest that overrides individual freedoms without carrying out much of an individualised balance of the interests at stake. [38]  More promising impetus could come from a random athlete seeking advice from supervisory authorities through the avenues offered by his or her national data protection laws prior to exposure to a positive test or other disciplinary action. Unfortunately, much like consumers, athletes often seem to show little interest in their privacy until they are confronted with some tangible detrimental consequences.

A true plague or a real opportunity?

Some may view recent developments in data protection laws as just another headache for sports governing bodies and deplore the advent of a new hurdle for anti-doping organisations who aspire to take their tasks under the World Anti-Doping Program seriously. Anti-doping organisations advocate that they are carrying out a mission of public interest. As we have seen, this view has been supported by various bodies and courts around the world and is also reflected in the UNESCO Convention against Doping in Sport. However, the GDPR does not regard public interest as an absolute basis for all data processing; in particular, sensitive data cannot be processed on the sole basis of an alleged public interest unless such public interest is substantial or related to public health, and its modalities are set out in national or EU law.

In a time where the credibility of existing structures and procedures within anti-doping authorities is questioned, the challenge arising from data protection standards can also be perceived as an opportunity for the anti-doping system. The ISPPPI and related WADA Guidelines, unfortunately, do not purport to provide solutions to the various crucial challenge set out above but merely invite anti-doping organisations to act in accordance with their applicable data protection laws. They give little guidance on how this is to be achieved in the event that these laws conflict with their duties under the WADC.

Developments in data protection force anti-doping organisations to look at their structures, legal status and their relationships with other organisations within the system. These developments should also have the effect of prompting national legislators to take measures more supportive of anti-doping policies in this domain, and in particular by making sure that sports governing bodies benefit from an appropriate legal basis for processing data, including sensitive data. Given that the very purpose of the WADC is to harmonise the regulation of doping in sport worldwide and that this objective is routinely invoked to justify restrictions on athlete rights, it would seem somewhat counterintuitive not to afford all athletes the same level of protection where their data is concerned. If there is truly a general international consensus on the legitimacy of the fight against doping and this consensus is supported by the State parties to the UNESCO Convention, those States, at a minimum, must be willing to give anti-doping organisations the means to carry out their tasks in a legally sustainable manner, unless and until these States are ready to engage in a fundamental overhaul of the current system.

[1] Regulation (EU) 2016/679 of the European Parliament and of the Council of 27 April 2016 on the protection of natural persons with regard to the processing of personal data and on the free movement of such data. The GDPR started to apply on 25 May 2018. In theory, all entities conducting data processing activities within the scope of the GDPR ought to have secured compliance as of this effective date.

[2] Recital 112 refers to requirements for cross-border data transfers and provides: “Those derogations should in particular apply to data transfers required and necessary […] for public health, for example […] in order to reduce and/or eliminate doping in sport”.

[3] Article 3 para. 2 of the GDPR regarding territorial scope of application.

[4] See Articles 4.4 of the WADC for TUEs, 5.2 for testing, and 7.1 for results management.

[5] See e.g. CAS 2014/A/3598, 3599 & 3618, in which the authority of USADA to initiate proceedings against Johan Bruyneel and others was challenged.

[6] Article 4 (Definitions) of the GDPR. Note that a processor within the meaning of the GDPR may itself choose to delegate part of its activities to a sub-processor, if and to the extent authorised by the controller.

[7] See the guidance and examples given by the UK Information Commissioner’s Office.

[8] See Chapter IV of the GDPR.

[9] Article 28 para. 3 of the GDPR.

[10] Article 6 of the GDPR.

[11] Article 9 of the GDPR.

[12] Article 9 para. 1 of the GDPR; Article 3 lit. c of the DPA.

[13] See e.g. Duval A (2017) Not in My Name! Claudia Pechstein and the Post-Consensual Foundations of the Court of Arbitration for Sport, Max Planck Institute for Comparative Public Law & International Law (MPIL) Research Paper No. 2017-01; Rigozzi A & Robert-Tissot F (2015) "Consent" in Sports Arbitration: Its Multiple Aspects. In: Geisinger & Trabaldo-De Mestral (eds) Sports Arbitration: A Coach for Other Players? ASA Series 41, Jurisnet NY, pp 59-95;

[14] Swiss Supreme Court Decision, 4P.172/2006, 22 March 2007.

[15] ECtHR Decision 22 October 2018, Mutu & Pechstein v. Switzerland, no 40575/10 et 67474/10, para. 114.

[16] Article 4 (Definitions) of the GDPR.

[17] Article 4 para. 5 of the DPA.

[18] Article 7 para. 3 of the GDPR.

[19] Article 7 para. 2 of the GDPR.

[20] Article 7.11 of the WADC.

[21] Though it is often debated to what extent exactly the performance enhancing effect of individual prohibited substances and methods is established. Heuberger J, Cohen A (2018) Review of WADA Prohibited Substances: Limited Evidence for Performance-Enhancing Effects. Sports Med. 2019; 49(4): 525–539.

[22] Message du Conseil fédéral du 11 nov. 2009, FF 09.082, pp 7450/7451 : « Aujourd’hui, les contrôles antidopage relevant du sport de droit privé reposent sur une déclaration de consentement du sportif. Cette déclaration doit être librement consentie. Or, cette liberté n’est pas garantie, dans la mesure où le refus de donner son consentement peut entraîner l’exclusion de la manifestation ou la perte de la licence ».

[23] CAS 2005/C/976 & 986, FIFA & WADA, para. 138 ; CJEU decision Meca-Medina & Majcen v. Commission (C-519/04).

[24] A recent example: CAS 2018/A/5546, Guerrero v. FIFA, CAS 2018/A/5571, WADA v. FIFA & Guerrero, paras 85 et seq.; Legal Opinion by Jean-Paul Costa on the 2015 revision of the WADC.

[25] Viret (2016), Evidence in Anti-Doping at the Intersection of Science & Law, T.M.C Asser, p. 133; Since its 2015 version, the WADC has included an explicit reference to proportionality as one of the key considerations underlying its drafting. See introductory section “Purpose, Scope and Organization of the World Anti-Doping Program and the Code”.

[26]ECtHR, FNASS et al. v. France (48151/11 and 77769/13), para. 191.

[27] Article 5(1)(c) of the GDPR, whereas the data must be “adequate, relevant and limited to what is necessary in relation to the purposes for which they are processed (‘data minimisation’)”.

[28] Section 5.0 ISPPI “Processing Relevant and Proportionate Personal Information”.

[29] Art. 29 Working Party, now replaced by the European Data Protection Board under the GDPR.

[30] See collection of legal documents on WADA website.

[31] Comment to revised ISPPPI by NADA Germany, ad Annex Retention Times.

[32] Comment ad Article 5.3(d) draft ISPPPI.

[33] The EU Commission warns that extension of purpose is not possible where processing was based on consent or a provision of law without renewing the consent or creating a new legal basis.

[34] See e.g. preamble of the UNESCO Convention “Concerned by the use of doping by athletes in sport and the consequences thereof for their health, the principle of fair play, the elimination of cheating and the future of sport”.

[35] See already in CJEU decision Meca-Medina & Majcen v. Commission (C-519/04) regarding the proportionality of threshold levels.

[36] Maisonneuve Mathieu, La CEDH et les obligations de localisation des sportifs : le doute profite à la conventionnalité de la lutte contre le dopage, note sous CEDH, 5^e sect., 18 January 2018, Fédération nationale des associations et des syndicats sportifs (FNASS) et autres c. France, req. Nos 48151/11 et 77769/13. Journal d’actualité des droits européenes, Centre de recherches et de documentation européennes et internationales, 2018.

[37] CAS 2016/A/4487, IAAF v. Melnikov, para. 108.

[38] CAS 2009/A/1879, Valverde v. CONI, para. 139.