The selling of media rights is currently a hot topic in European football. Last week, the English Premier League cashed in around 7 billion Euros for the sale of its live domestic media rights (2016 to 2019) – once again a 70 percent increase in comparison to the previous tender. This means that even the bottom club in the Premier League will receive approximately €130 million while the champions can expect well over €200 million per season.

The Premier League’s new deal has already led the President of the Spanish National Professional Football League (LNFP), Javier Tebas, to express his concerns that this could see La Liga lose its position as one of Europe’s leading leagues. He reiterated that establishing a centralised sales model in Spain is of utmost importance, if not long overdue.

Concrete plans to reintroduce a system of joint selling for the media rights of the Primera División, Segunda División A, and la Copa del Rey by means of a Royal Decree were already announced two years ago. The road has surely been long and bumpy. The draft Decree is finally on the table, but now it misses political approval. All the parties involved are blaming each other for the current failure: the LNFP blames the Sport Governmental Council for Sport (CSD) for not taking the lead; the Spanish Football Federation (RFEF) is arguing that the Federation and non-professional football entities should receive more money and that it should have a stronger say in the matter in accordance with the FIFA Statutes;  and there are widespread rumours that the two big earners, Real Madrid and FC Barcelona, are actively lobbying to prevent the Royal Decree of actually being adopted.

To keep the soap opera drama flowing,  on 30 December 2014, FASFE (an organisation consisting of groups of fans, club members, and minority shareholders of several Spanish professional football clubs) and the International Soccer Centre (a movement that aims to obtain more balanced and transparent football and basketball competitions in Spain) filed an antitrust complaint with the European Commission against the LNFP. They argue that the current system of individual selling of LNFP media rights, with unequal shares of revenue widening the gap between clubs, violates EU competition law.

Source:http://www.gopixpic.com/600/buscar%C3%A1n-el-amor-verdadero-nueva-novela-de-televisa/http:%7C%7Cassets*zocalo*com*mx%7Cuploads%7Carticles%7C5%7C134666912427*jpg/

The complaint will surely be frowned upon in Brussels. First, Spain is on the verge of introducing a joint selling arrangement. So what is the point of using competition law as an instrument to obtain … a joint selling arrangement? Second, the argument that a horizontal agreement, preventing LNFP clubs from individually competing in the sale of their media rights, is needed to ensure fair and effective competition seems, to put it mildly, counterintuitive. Third, who files an antitrust complaint on 30 December?

The complainants essentially target the polarization of revenues between the two top clubs (Real Madrid and FC Barcelona) and the other clubs. This is a well-known and long-standing feature of the LNFP, which is only in part attributable to disparities in the clubs’ media rights income. The complainants point out, however, that media coverage is also an important driver of other main revenue streams (e.g. value of sponsorship deals, ticket sales, and merchandising). 

Since the end of the 1990s, clubs have been selling the LNFP media rights individually. In a system of individual selling, a club’s bargaining power is evidently determined by the market potential of the matches of a specific club and not by the collective attractiveness of the competition as a whole. This has resulted in a pronounced imbalance between the two top clubs Real Madrid and FC Barcelona, who are able to extract supra-normal profits, and the other clubs.

For the 2010-2011 season, for example, the two Spanish giants both received around €125 million for their live media rights, leaving their domestic peers fighting over the scraps (i.e. the next biggest clubs earned around €40 million and the majority of the clubs sold their rights for about €15 million). In other words, Real Madrid and FC Barcelona generate ten times more revenue from their media rights as compared to the smaller clubs.

While it is easy to see why this situation may be considered unfair from the perspective of the majority of the clubs, it is less evident to find a competition law problem. 

A competition law perspective 

As stated above, the complaint is launched against the LNFP who, according to FASFE, by means of authorising the individual selling of TV rights system, is violating EU competition law.

First, the complainants argue that the system of individual selling strengthens the dominant positions of Real Madrid and FC Barcelona and, subsequently, undermines the competitive position of the other clubs. So far so good. But then they jump to the conclusion that Article 102 TFEU is being violated, not by the LNFP, but by Real Madrid and FC Barcelona. 

There they lost us – and presumably anyone remotely familiar with EU competition law. But let’s be a good sport and contemplate this line of reasoning a bit further.  

It might be argued that Real Madrid and FC Barcelona hold a (collective) dominant position on certain product markets in Spain and, by extension, in a substantial part of the internal market – even though the complaint fails to properly define those relevant markets. On the upstream market for the acquisition of media rights of La Liga, both clubs behave to a certain extent independently of their competitors. Spanish broadcasters first seek to acquire the media rights to their matches, which undercuts the bargaining position of the other clubs in the subsequent negotiations for the purchase of their rights. A more fundamental flaw is that the complainants contend that the possession or even strengthening of a dominant position by way of competition falls within the prohibition of Article 102 TFEU. The complaint does not put forward a single argument substantiating how both clubs engage in abusive conduct. 

Second, the complainants argue that the LNFP, according to Article 49 of its statutes, must look after the common interests of the competitions that it organises and of its members. In their view, the 1996 decision of the LFNP General Assembly to re-introduce a system of joint selling, which has negatively affected the majority of clubs and a large majority of fans, does not comply with this objective. 

While it can be argued that the LNFP’s decision constitutes a decision of an association of undertakings within the meaning of Article 101(1) TFEU, it is difficult to see how it has an anti-competitive object or effect. Quite on the contrary, the decision lifted the competitive constraints on the clubs’ independent decision-making that were in place up until the season 1997-1998. 

It should be noted that a system of joint selling of media rights does not necessarily bring about an equitable distribution of the revenues among the clubs. Albeit connected, the distribution mechanism is a separate measure, which is typically for the most part performance-based. Moreover, financial solidarity can also be implemented through other mechanisms, such as a taxation system or the redistribution of voluntary contributions. That said, it must be acknowledged that a system of joint selling does facilitate the sharing of revenues among clubs. The ability of sports organisers to impose alternative financial solidarity mechanisms might be constrained by the pressure of the larger clubs (which evidently wish to see a larger share of the revenues flow back to them because they are primarily responsible for generating these revenues). The clubs’ media rights income ratio in the other top European football leagues, where media rights are sold collectively, illustrates this point. In the season 2011-2012 the earnings ratio of the top to the bottom club was as follows: Premier League (1,55 to 1); Serie A (4,35 to 1); Bundesliga (2,3 to 1); and Ligue 1 (3,2 to 1).[1] 

Considering that joint selling only creates incentives for horizontal solidarity, the financial solidarity justification in itself could not outweigh the anti-competitive effects of a joint selling arrangement. The restrictions of competition are considerable. First, joint selling agreements prevent clubs from individually competing in the sale of their media rights. Access to the market can therefore be foreclosed to competing buyers. Second, joint selling leads to uniform prices and other trading conditions. Price-fixing is a hard-core restriction that is normally prohibited. Third, joint selling could lead to output restrictions when certain rights are withheld from the market. 

As the discussion of the competition law decisional practice below will demonstrate, it is even unclear whether the financial solidarity argument can be invoked as a partial legal defence against the prohibition of restrictive agreements. 

The financial solidarity conundrum

One of the key assumptions underlying the complaint is that the EU institutions advocate the joint selling of media rights. This is presumably one of the main reasons why they are turning to Brussels for help. While it is true that the European Council (e.g. in the 2001 Nice Declaration) and the European Parliament have always been supportive of the link between joint selling and the principle of financial solidarity, the same cannot be said about the European Commission. In policy documents, the Commission has refrained from making (strong) pronouncements on the solidarity benefits of joint selling vis-à-vis individual selling. In the Helsinki Report on Sport (1999) the Commission underscored the need to examine the precise link between the joint selling of media rights and financial solidarity between professional and amateur sport. In its White Paper on Sport (2007) the Commission acknowledged that joint selling “can be a tool for achieving greater solidarity within sports”, but immediately added that also a system of individual selling by clubs can be linked to a robust solidarity mechanism. Only in the Communication on Developing the European Dimension of Sport (2011) the Commission expressed some general support for a system of joint selling. Surely some of the Commission’s press releases coinciding its decisions in this area mention benefits for financial solidarity (see e.g. here). If the complainants had looked at the actual decisions, however, they would have realised that that rhetoric is inconsistent with the legal argumentation.

After the need to address competition issues in relation to joint selling arrangements for football media rights emerged in the 1990s, several National Competition Authorities (NCAs) found that the system was incompatible with the national competition rules. The NCAs were sceptical about the necessary link between joint selling and revenue distribution and, subsequently, did not consider it to be a pro-competitive benefit capable of offsetting the identified restrictive effects. Even though the NCAs spoke out uniformly against the joint selling of football media rights, in three Member States their decisions were either overruled by a national court (United Kingdom) or circumvented through legislative action (Germany) or executive orders (the Netherlands).[2] This created uncertainties regarding the circumstances under which joint selling could be considered compatible with EU and national competition law. 

In the UEFA Champions League decision (2003) the European Commission for the first time assessed the compatibility of the joint selling of football media rights with Article 101 TFEU. In two subsequent decisions, German Bundesliga (2005) and FA Premier League (2006), the Commission raised similar competition concerns and imposed similar remedies to address these concerns. 

In all three decisions, the Commission found that joint selling arrangements are caught by the prohibition of Article 101(1) TFEU, but may create substantial efficiency gains so that Article 101(3) TFEU could be invoked as a legal defence. It identified three main benefits: (1) the creation of a single point of sale (which creates efficiencies by reducing the transaction costs for sports organisers and media content operators); (2) branding of the output by one entity (which creates efficiencies as it helps the media products receive wider recognition and distribution); and (3) the creation of a league product focused on the competition as a whole rather than individual clubs. 

To ensure that the efficiency benefits outweigh the toxic cocktail of anti-competitive effects (i.e. price-fixing and considerable risks of market foreclosure and output restrictions), the Commission carefully prescribed the way in which the rights must be marketed by imposing a list of behavioural remedies. 

In all three of the Commission’s investigations, the parties put forward the financial solidarity argument as the main justification for an exemption of their joint selling arrangements under Article 101(3) TFEU.[3] Yet the Commission never substantially addressed that argument. Only in the UEFA Champions League decision, the point was briefly considered. The Commission simply noted that UEFA had failed to substantiate the indispensability of a joint selling agreement for the redistribution of revenue and, subsequently, for the organisation of the Champions League.[4] Since it could exempt the joint selling agreement on economic efficiency grounds, however, the Commission concluded that “it is not necessary for the purpose of this procedure to consider the solidarity argument any further”.[5] As such, the Commission conveniently got round the issue.

The national decisional practice subsequent to the Commission’s precedents equally refrained from addressing the issue. The NCAs started focusing their assessments exclusively on efficiency benefits, as instructed by the Commission.  

In short, in competition law proceedings related to joint selling arrangements, the financial solidarity defence has never been very compelling – it was either considered unsound (early national enforcement practice) or remained unaddressed. Of course, one may still argue that the elephant in the room was surreptitiously taken into account (bearing in mind that the acceptance of a similar price-fixing cartel in other sectors would be difficult to imagine).[6] 

Redistribution formulas for media rights income  

After the European Commission de facto legitimized the joint selling of football media rights, the system became the common practice for marketing such rights in Europe. Since Italy reintroduced the system of joint selling in 2010, Cyprus, Portugal, and Spain are now the last EU markets in which first division football clubs sell their rights individually. 

To put the distribution key foreseen in the pending Spanish Royal Decree into perspective, we will first summarize how the other four big European leagues redistribute the media rights income. 

England: Since 1992, the year in which the Premier League was formed, it was decided that 50% of the revenue is split equally between the 20 clubs, 25% is paid in Merit Payments (depending on where a club finishes in the final League table), and the final 25% is paid in Facility Fees (based on each time a club’s matches are broadcast in the UK). All international broadcast revenue, and central commercial revenue, is split equally amongst the 20 clubs. For the season 2013/2014, the ratio between the top (Liverpool at €132 million Euros) and the bottom earning club (Cardiff City at €84 million) was 1.57:1.

Germany: Within the German Bundesliga clubs, the criteria for the distribution of revenues will be determined by a 2:1 ratio between the top-ranked and the bottom-ranked teams in an ad hoc distribution ranking for the years 2013 – 2017. This means that the revenue sharing distribution will range from a maximum of 5.8% of the total amount for the first place team to at least 2.9% for the 18th place team. The Bundesliga’s international media rights income distribution, however, remains based on both international and domestic sport performance.

Italy: Italy’s Serie A joint selling system had an earnings ratio of the top to bottom club of 5.25:1 for the season 2013/2014. Juventus, the top earning club, had an income from TV rights of €94 million, whereas the bottom earning club, Sassuolo, of €17.9 million.[7] Out of the total amount distributed, 40% is distributed to all the clubs as a fixed amount. Furthermore, 30% is distributed on the basis of past results (15% on results during last five seasons, 10% on historical results[8], and 5% on last season’s final league position); and 25% according to club supporters base.  

The planned Royal Decree in Spain will have a distribution system that guarantees Real Madrid and FC Barcelona an amount that is very close to what they earn now. The income ratio of the clubs will start at 4:1 and diminishes as the total amount of income increases. From the total income, about 3% will be deducted for the Spanish FA and for non-professional sports. Additionally, 10% will be assigned to the Second Division. The remaining amount will be distributed as follows: 50% as fixed amount for all the clubs, 25% depending on sports results while taking into account historical results. The other 25% will be distributed in relation to public awareness similar the Italian system (calculated on the basis of TV audiences, city population, and number of fans of the club).  

Conclusion

It is safe to say that the competition complaint launched by FASFE will not lead to the European Commission opening a formal investigation. The complainants fail to demonstrate how the current Spanish individual selling system breaches, or even potentially breaches, Article 101 and/or 102 TFEU. In that regard, it should be noted that they already tried their luck with the national competition authority (CNC), alleging infringements of national competition law. On 8 January 2013, the CNC decided to reject the complaint because it only prescribed the results of the current media rights sales process without demonstrating violations of the national competition rules. 

Whether FASFE is aware of the same judicial inaccuracies in its Commission complaint is unknown. On the other hand, it is quite evident that invoking competition law to argue for the introduction of a cartel with significant anti-competitive effects is paradoxical. The ex post fairness (i.e. the outcome of market competition) that FASFE is looking for is quite different from the ex ante fairness in the market place that competition policy is concerned with. One can therefore interpret the complaint as an attempt to add pressure on the involved Spanish parties (the CSD, the LNFP, and the RFEF) to introduce the new Royal Decree once and for all. Although the Spanish public is provided daily episodes full of jabbering, backstabbing and other drama, as with all Telenovelas, the soap is dragging on and on and should have ended ages ago. 

Whether the switch to a joint selling arrangement will significantly improve the competitive balance in La Liga remains to be seen. Since FC Barcelona and Real Madrid are guaranteed an amount similar to what they receive now, this will ultimately depend on how much the total income from the sale of the media rights will increase. The inexorable rise in the value of the broadcasting deals in the UK, which is the unique result of a duopoly of two powerful deep-pocket players (i.e. the incumbent dominant pay-TV operator Sky and new market entrant BT) that emerged after the introduction of the “no single buyer” obligation, cannot be realistically expected – at least not in the short term. Yet it is relatively certain that the overall income from media rights will go up – ultimately to the benefit of all the clubs. A (minimum) earnings ratio of the top to bottom club of 4:1 is not overly ambitious, but surely is a welcome step towards remedying the current imbalance between the two top clubs and their less fortunate competitors.

[1] See T.M.C. Asser Institute and Institute for Information Law, “Study on Sports Organisers' Rights in the EU”, Commissioned by the European Commission, DG Education and Culture, February 2014.

[2] Idem.

[3] See e.g. Commission, “Case No IV/37.214 - DFB - Central marketing of TV and radio broadcasting rights for certain football competitions in Germany” (Notice) (1999) OJ C/610, para. 7; Commission, “Notice published pursuant to Article 19(3) of Council Regulation No 17 concerning case COMP/C.2/38.173 and 38.453 - joint selling of the media rights of the FA Premier League on an exclusive basis” (2004) OJ C 115/3, para. 10.

[4] UEFA Champions League (Case COMP/37.398) Commission decision 2003/778/EC (2003) OJ L291/25, para. 131.

[5] Idem, para. 167.

[6] See e.g. Giorgio Monti, “Article 81 EC and Public Policy” (2002) 39 CMLR 1057 (calling it a “sector-specific exemption”).

[7] FASFE Antitrust Complaint of 30 December 2014, page 11

[8] In other words, this revenue is determined by overall league placings since 1946. In this category, Juventus, AC Milan and Inter Milan are the top earning clubs. For more info see: http://www.financialfairplay.co.uk/latest-news/tv-revenue-distribution-%E2%80%93-comparing-italian-and-english-models.

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.