What is Uefa’s racism protocol and is it working?

Lisbon, Tuesday night: Vinicius Jr wheels away in celebration after a stunning goal that has put Real Madrid in control of their Champions League knockout play-off against Benfica. Within minutes, however, the narrative shifted from footballing brilliance to a flash-point over alleged racist abuse. The Brazilian forward informed French referee François Letexier that he had been targeted by Benfica midfielder Gianluca Prestianni, a claim the Argentine has denied. Letexier instantly halted play, arms crossed above his head—the universal signal introduced by Fifa only last year to denote a racism-related stoppage—yet what followed exposed the limitations of the sport’s long-standing three-step protocol.

Introduced by Uefa in 2009, the protocol empowers referees to stop a match only when they personally hear discriminatory language. In situations where the official is alerted by a player, as happened at the Estádio da Luz, the procedure is more opaque: the incident is logged with the fourth official, an announcement may be made if abuse emanates from the stands, and, should the problem persist, the game can be suspended or ultimately abandoned. Because Letexier did not hear the alleged remark, the legislation offered no scope for on-field sanction; instead, a ten-minute interlude of negotiation between benches ensued before Vinicius voluntarily left the pitch and play resumed.

Kick It Out chair Sanjay Bhandari describes the framework as “the least bad of a set of terrible options,” adding that “nobody feels happy with it, yet nobody has produced a clearly superior alternative.” Since its inception the three-step mechanism has rarely been activated; the Premier League’s only deployment this term came at Anfield on the opening weekend, when Bournemouth’s Antoine Semenyo reported crowd-based abuse. Historical precedent does exist for player-on-player punishment—most prominently the ten-match ban handed to Slavia Prague’s Ondřej Kúdela in 2021 for racially abusing Rangers midfielder Glen Kamara—but such outcomes require post-match disciplinary processes rather than immediate redress inside 90 minutes.

Refereeing guidelines, reiterated to all Uefa officials, stress reassurance of the offended player and strict adherence to the graduated steps. Former Fifa and Uefa assistant referee Darren Cann notes that “the referee cannot force a player to continue,” with abandonment viewed strictly as a last resort. Critics argue the current structure “prioritises getting the game played,” a stance Bhandari believes will persist “until a team walks off in solidarity and forces the issue back into the spotlight.”

Uefa will now await Letexier’s official report before opening its own investigation into the Lisbon incident. For Vinicius, who Spanish media estimate has flagged roughly twenty alleged racist episodes since arriving at Madrid eight years ago, the episode marks another chapter in a recurring ordeal; for European football’s governors, it revives uncomfortable questions about whether a protocol designed for crowd-based offences can adequately address the nuances of player-to-player discrimination. Unless on-pitch microphones, stricter in-match evidence thresholds, or a willingness to abandon fixtures becomes standard, the crossed-arm gesture may continue to symbolise both a stance against racism and the game’s unresolved struggle to confront it.