The Shift in World Cup Final Location: From Spain to Morocco
The phrase "Either the final or nothing," coined by my compatriot Paco González at COPE, has recently gained traction on social media. We are currently witnessing an intense public debate regarding the likelihood, which is rapidly turning into a near certainty, that Morocco will host the final of the 2030 World Cup. This potential shift from Madrid or Barcelona to Casablanca highlights a project that was initially a bold initiative by Spain's Prime Minister Sánchez but has now morphed into a contentious national pride issue. This is precisely the aim of King Mohamed VI, who seems to be playing his cards exceptionally well against a Spanish government criticized for its inaction, effectively delivering a blow to Spanish pride.
The first time I encountered the suggestion that the 2030 World Cup final might take place in Morocco was in February 2024, during a conversation with several Moroccan journalists covering the inaugural High-Level Meeting (RAN) between Spain and Morocco in Rabat, alongside their Spanish counterparts. The prospect of the final being held anywhere but the iconic Santiago Bernabéu or Camp Nou initially seemed utterly far-fetched. However, the Moroccan journalists were insistent, convinced of their information. Just four months prior, the Moroccan government had announced plans for the construction of what it anticipated would be the largest stadium in the world, the Hassan II Stadium in Casablanca. Reportedly, the capacity of 115,000 spectators was set by the Moroccan Royal House, taking inspiration from the current largest stadium in the world, the Rungrado 1st of May Stadium in Pyongyang, North Korea, which accommodates 114,000 fans. The logic was simple: just one more seat to break the record.
It seems the Moroccan journalists had the inside track, as the World Cup topic was indeed on the agenda during that bilateral meeting. Discussions revolved around how the technical project would be structured, which had already begun drafting. A few weeks later, in March 2024, the tournament's logo was unveiled. By the end of that year, Spain, Portugal, and Morocco submitted their Bid Book to FIFA—the technical 'bible' of their candidacy. One of the initial surprises was the inclusion of the Hassan II Stadium among the frontrunners—alongside the Bernabéu and Camp Nou—to host the final. "Expected round: final," stated the official documentation.
A Series of Concessions and Political Maneuvering
Returning to the cliché that "football is business," it is crucial to clarify that business also equates to politics. The developments in 2024 represent yet another concession in a long line of compromises that Prime Minister Pedro Sánchez's government has made to Rabat since at least 2022. The crisis at the Ceuta border in May 2021, when 10,000 individuals forcibly entered the city with the assistance of the Moroccan Gendarmerie, feels like a distant memory. Those were also the days when Sánchez's phone was hacked, a fact that has since been established beyond doubt—refer to the series on this incident published by this outlet last February.
This was just the beginning of a series of concessions that unfolded. It started in spring 2022 when a letter from the Spanish Prime Minister, disseminated by Moroccan diplomacy, signified a complete 180-degree shift in a foreign policy stance that had been in place for four decades. The letter indicated that Morocco would dictate the rules regarding Western Sahara, with the Spanish government’s full approval. This also opened the door for Morocco to exert control over airspace above the Sahara, another contentious issue.
Subsequent concessions followed, such as the dissolution of OCON Sur, a unit fighting drug trafficking in the Strait, which had already made approximately 10,000 arrests—many of whom were Moroccan nationals. A contingent of Civil Guard agents had been effectively curbing the smuggling of hashish and other narcotics from Gibraltar. The criminal organizations had grown so emboldened that they conducted drug drops in broad daylight along the banks of the Guadalquivir, armed with assault rifles. Meanwhile, Rabat was demanding Spain pay for the allowances of its gendarmes and the fuel used by their patrol boats, while planning to purchase 25 F-16 fighter jets from the U.S. for $4.7 billion, in addition to another substantial investment for Apache attack helicopters.
During these years, Morocco emerged as the primary beneficiary of international aid from the Spanish government, including a highly controversial desalination plant in Casablanca—the largest in Africa, capable of supplying water to the region and massive agricultural projects planned by Rabat in the Saharan desert. By the decision of Sánchez's government, public funds totaling 340 million euros have been allocated to this project, which directly threatens the competitiveness of Spanish agriculture in the European market. Notably, Morocco has managed to leverage the desalination plant as a bargaining chip to promote Casablanca as a candidate city in its technical submissions to FIFA.
In this context, it becomes challenging not to view Morocco's entry into the 2030 World Cup as yet another concession. There are, however, even more obscure and perilous concessions at play. For instance, the territorial dispute over the underwater features known as the Tropic Mountain, which lies off the Canary Islands, could tip in Morocco's favor if it gains recognition of control over the Saharan waters. This area is believed to contain significant deposits of rare materials, such as tellurium, which are essential for manufacturing semiconductor components for nearly 300 million electric vehicles.
The influence operation that has been chronicled by THE OBJECTIVE this week, unfolding in the stadiums of the World Cup, is overshadowed by the moves Rabat is making to secure that strategic mineral deposit. The resolution of this matter will ultimately be addressed at the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea, with the ruling of the Continental Shelf Limits Commission (CLCS) being pivotal. This independent body, comprising 21 scientists, assesses geological criteria to determine ownership of that underwater treasure off the Canary Islands. Notably, in October 2022, as negotiations for Morocco's involvement in the 2030 World Cup were underway, Rabat managed to place a lobbyist named Miloud Loukili within that technical entity. This legal expert transitioned into a scientific committee member, and both the Foreign Ministry and Moncloa were immediately aware of it—and did nothing.
Returning to the topic of the Moroccan final in 2030, money must be addressed. By now, even the most naïve of readers can discern that football has morphed into a multi-billion-dollar business. While it has been lucrative for decades, the financial aspect has eclipsed the sporting element, relegating it to the bottom of the pyramid of interests that drive this colossal money-making machine. This is palpably evident in the 2030 World Cup, where hydration breaks are scheduled in stadiums equipped with roofs, maintained at temperatures between 20 and 24 degrees Celsius. The breaks, do not be misled, are designed for spectators to 'hydrate' with a generous serving of advertisements akin to those seen during the Super Bowl. This is the path the World Cup has taken under FIFA President Gianni Infantino, who boasts that tickets for the final exceed 5,000 euros.
This, indeed, is the argument Morocco is using to secure the hosting rights for the 2030 World Cup final, which was initially thought to be a certainty for Madrid or Barcelona. As reported by theobjective.com.
Thanks to the efforts of Morocco's ambassador to the U.S., Youssef Amrani, and the omnipresent president of its football federation, Fouzi Lekjaa, Rabat has secured enough support in the Council to ensure Infantino does not have to tread carefully. The ultimate decision lies with him, and while he could impose his judgment, with two federations—and two confederations, UEFA and CAF—competing for the hosting rights, any justification will be inadequate.
Brazil hosted its final in 2014 at the legendary Maracanã, Russia in 2018 at Moscow’s Luzhniki Stadium, a venue steeped in political significance from the 1980 Olympics. Qatar welcomed visitors to the stunning Lusail Stadium in 2022, while the upcoming 2026 tournament is set to take place at New York's MetLife Stadium. Except for the last event—attempted unsuccessfully from Dallas—the rest were preordained in the technical documentation of their candidacies. They simply needed the green light.
However, the situation for 2030 is markedly different: the stakes are so high that Infantino may need to invoke Article 6.2 of FIFA's governance regulations to include this matter on the Council's agenda. When that moment arrives, Spain stands to lose significantly. For now, Rabat claims to have garnered support from 22 of the 19 necessary votes, bolstered by the Trump administration, Qatar, and Saudi Arabia's football-loving Crown Prince, Mohamed bin Salman, who is diving into a business venture in the English Premier League with Newcastle.
