The 2025 Africa Cup of Nations, hosted by Morocco at the cost of billions, was supposed to mark the kingdom’s definitive entry into the circle of major global sporting powers. Instead, it will be remembered as one of the most controversial editions—not for its level of play, but for what it revealed: the exposure of an institutionalized cheating system, planned long in advance, executed behind the scenes of the Confederation of African Football (CAF), and ultimately thwarted on the field by what many have called, not without irony, a form of poetic justice.
Morocco’s defeat in the final against Senegal (1–0, on January 18, 2026) does not erase the scandal; it sheds light on it.
A CAN under suspicion from the first whistle
Throughout the tournament, the Moroccan team benefited from refereeing decisions that were unanimously contested. From the group stage match against Mali, then against Tanzania in the round of 16 and Cameroon in the quarterfinals, clear penalties against Morocco were ignored, while VAR reviews systematically turned against their opponents.
The final brought all the abuses into sharp focus: a valid Senegalese goal disallowed late in the match, followed by a penalty awarded to Morocco on an action marred by an obvious offside that went unreported. The accumulation of such decisions left no room for reasonable doubt: these were no longer human errors, but a consistent refereeing bias.
Fouzi Lekjaa and the takeover of CAF’s inner mechanisms
Revelations published by the newspaper El Khabar now help explain how this bias was made possible.
At the center of the operation is Fouzi Lekjaa, president of the Royal Moroccan Football Federation and, more importantly, chairman of CAF’s finance committee—a key position granting access to the institution’s most sensitive files.
The first step of the plan was to weaken CAF’s General Secretariat, led by Véron Mosengo‑Omba, a national of the Democratic Republic of Congo. Capitalizing on persistent corruption rumors, Lekjaa pushed CAF to hire an external firm to audit its accounts. On August 1, 2024, CAF publicly acknowledged the existence of financial irregularities.
When the audit report was due to be presented to the CAF General Assembly in Cairo on March 12, 2025, the firm abruptly requested a postponement, officially to “finalize its work.” According to El Khabar, this delay—granted by CAF—became a decisive tool of blackmail.
The pact: protection in exchange for submission
Lekjaa then approached Mosengo‑Omba, informing him that the report contained damaging evidence that could end his career if made public. Then came the offer: protection in exchange for a favor.
The agreement was sealed during a CAF Executive Committee meeting in Kinshasa on October 5, 2025. Lekjaa committed to neutralizing the audit and shielding the General Secretary. In return, Mosengo‑Omba agreed to reshape the entire architecture of African refereeing.
The cornerstone of the scheme was the appointment of a new head of CAF’s Refereeing Commission, a Congolese national completely loyal to the General Secretary. The name of Olivier Safari, a former Congolese international assistant referee, was imposed in total secrecy despite concerns raised by FIFA’s Refereeing Committee. While the media speculated about South African, Egyptian, or Moroccan candidates, the decision had already been locked in.
A CAN under controlled refereeing
With the Refereeing Commission now under their grip, the rest unfolded almost mechanically. The same referees reappeared in key matches, whether involving Morocco or its direct competitors. The names Pierre Ghislain Atcho (Gabon), Issa Sy (Senegal), Dahane Beida (Mauritania), Daniel Laryea (Ghana), Boubou Traoré (Mali), and Haythem Guirat (Tunisia) became familiar to African viewers, as their controversial decisions mounted.
Despite the scale of the scandals and their international resonance, CAF adopted a telling stance: no serious investigations, but thinly veiled attacks on those labeled as “enemies of Morocco.” The most criticized referees were paradoxically kept in place—and even “rewarded” with appointments in the later stages of the tournament.
Opening match and final: the symbol of manipulation
The most incriminating detail involves the two most sensitive matches of the tournament: the opening match and the final. Both were assigned to the same referee—Congolese referee Jean‑Jacques Ndala, who resides and works in Morocco.
Ndala officiated:
- the opening match Morocco–Comoros;
- the final Morocco–Senegal.
When one recalls that:
- the CAF General Secretary is Congolese,
- the head of the Refereeing Commission is Congolese,
- the referee of both key matches is Congolese,
- and that said referee lives and works in Morocco,the notion of mere coincidence becomes untenable.
From football to diplomacy: a consistent method
What happened during CAN 2025 is not an anomaly. It mirrors the methods Morocco has long used in politics and diplomacy.
The “Moroccogate” scandal in the European Parliament, exposed in 2022 by Belgian authorities, revealed an extensive corruption network aimed at influencing Europe’s stance on Western Sahara and silencing criticism of Morocco’s human rights record. Investigations confirmed the direct involvement of Moroccan intelligence services.
The Pegasus scandal, exposed in 2021 by an international consortium of journalists, revealed a vast espionage system targeting journalists, dissidents, and foreign leaders—including French President Emmanuel Macron.
With Spain, Rabat used migratory pressure at Ceuta and Melilla until securing political alignment in March 2022, before violently cracking down on the migrants who instantly became undesirable.
Conclusion: a humiliation for Africa
CAN 2025 was meant to be a showcase. It became a cruel mirror. It wasn’t just Senegal or any other opponent of Morocco who was wronged—it was Africa as a whole, whose flagship competition was tainted by premeditated maneuvers carried out with cynicism and arrogance.
The attempt failed on the sporting level. But the damage is done: CAF’s credibility has been deeply undermined, and Morocco’s image, far from being elevated, has emerged further tarnished.
To paraphrase Shakespeare: now more than ever, “there was, and there remains, something rotten in the kingdom of Morocco.”
Well analysed
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