Africa Cup of Nations 2025: When the Victim Becomes the Culprit... 235
The reaction of Tunisian Hatem Trabelsi, former defender for Ajax Amsterdam and Manchester City, and a beIN consultant for several years, to the CAF Appeal Jury's decision, widely shared on social media, goes beyond mere sports commentary. It subtly reveals the narrative tensions, divergent perceptions, and symbolic stakes surrounding Morocco's successes in African football today.
In his statement, Hatem Trabelsi highlights a classic phenomenon in African competitions under the Confederation of African Football (CAF): suspicion and discredit. Whatever the outcome, Morocco's victory seemed destined for contestation. If Brahim Díaz had scored, some would have cried arbitral error; if the Moroccan win had been decisive, it would have been labeled a "setup"; arising from a regulatory decision after the opponent's withdrawal, it becomes "proof of corruption."
This critical lens isn't based solely on facts, but on a structural distrust of African sports institutions and their governance. It's the daily sport of Africans: nothing is accepted without suspicion, without accusations of corruption. Even presidential elections rarely escape it.
The controversy actually exposes the narrative fractures generated by any decision, even the fairest. Over the past decade, Morocco has established itself as a central player in continental football. The kingdom has massively invested in infrastructure, training, and sports diplomacy. The results speak for themselves:
Historic semi-final at the FIFA World Cup 2022.
Multiplication of youth category titles.
Regular hosting of African competitions.
Growing appeal to binational players, like Brahim Díaz and many others.
Morocco did it for itself, while naively believing it was good to share the benefits with the continent. Did the continent really want it?
This rise fits into a broader soft power strategy, where sport becomes a lever for regional and international influence. But Morocco, the new power in African football, disturbs. Its success breeds jealousy and contestation.
Trabelsi's point underscores an observed reality: success invites contestation. In an African football landscape historically marked by fluctuating balances between Egypt, Cameroon, Nigeria, and Senegal, the emergence of a structured, high-performing Morocco has sparked resistance.
The Moroccan national team embodies a new dominance, built on sporting talent as much as organizational rigor, a transformation aligned with the country's overall trajectory. This fuels suspicious discourse, especially when refereeing or administrative decisions seem to favor it, rightly or wrongly.
In the background, the controversy points to a deeper issue: the CAF's credibility. Recurrent accusations of favoritism, "backroom deals," or opaque governance don't target just Morocco, but the entire system. It's the narrative cultivated by one or two African countries to which nothing succeeds. As the African is too often consigned to the role of perennial victim, this discourse finds fertile ground to impose itself as reality.
In this context, every decision becomes controversial, amplified by social media, press, and statements from governments, federations, or opportunists seeking visibility. Victimization, a recurrent sentiment in Africa, turns the slightest incident, or any decision, into a prism of suspicion.
Trabelsi's outburst isn't just support for Morocco; he himself knows the kingdom doesn't need it. It highlights a battle of narratives around contemporary African football: between sporting merit and political suspicions, national pride and regional solidarities.
Morocco, the rising power, finds itself at the heart of these tensions. As often in sports history, success is measured not only in trophies, but in the ability to impose a legitimate narrative.
The real challenge for African football isn't designating a winner, but restoring collective trust in the rules of the game. Beyond the match, a battle of narratives is underway, where institutional credibility is the Gordian knot.
The bad faith of some is evident. In a barely veiled attempt to poison relations between two peoples bound by centuries of brotherhood, a certain gaucho-Parisian press has launched a sordid discredit campaign, exploiting the weakness of the Moroccan national narrative, not for lack of content or relevance, but for its naivety in believing that good faith always prevails. Recent history proves otherwise. Those who long tormented Morocco for reclaiming part of its territory are the same ones howling on their sets or blackening paper, fueling a narrative aimed at harming the kingdom and sowing doubt about everything it undertakes.
This won't stop; preparation is needed, especially after the 2026 World Cup.
This is how to interpret Trabelsi's just and inspired words: it's time to build a Moroccan national narrative on national soil, without waiting for others, from abroad, to impose it through hatred and discredit.
Today, Morocco outpaces its closest neighbors, which bothers them, enrages them, even drives them mad. The truth is they're profound hypogiaphobes, dreading their responsibilities to their own peoples.
As for the 2025 AFCON, in two months, no one will talk about it anymore. It will boil down to a second well-deserved star on the Moroccan jersey, a sign that the CAF has come to its senses and will now apply its own rules.