Bad Sports, Part III—National Secrets

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A Winter Olympics on the horizon in 2026 reminds inherently-skeptical ski-journalists of Sochi in 2014. At those Olympics, a whole host of Russian athletes were disqualified due to their involvement in a government-sponsored doping scheme. Remember that one? The secret hole in the wall of a sealed room that housed the urine samples of all tested athletes? The hole that accessed a concealed room where a Russian operative waited to exchange “clean” urine samples for those tainted samples (those that would reveal doping) of select Russian athletes? Yes, that really happened. The entire Russian system cheated (Russian athletes, Russian coaches, Russian Olympic Committee, Russian government). And they got caught. So what’s the solution? Throw them all out? Ban Russian athletes from competing in all events sponsored by IOC member organizations? That’s a cruel but elegant solution . . . and one that the IOC is prevented from considering by the generous and egalitarian policies of its own charter (a founding document that views participation in sport as a human right).

Following disclosures of Russian doping in Sochi, the head of the Russian Ski Federation, Elena Valbe (herself, a former Olympic Champion in cross-country skiing), acknowledged that six Russian skiers Maxim Vylegzhanin, Alexei Petukhov, Evgenia Shapovalova, Yulia Ivanova, Evgeiy Belov, and Alexander Legkov had been disqualified due to doping violations, and their results annulled. Russia’s 4×10 km team—which included Vylegzhanin and Legkov—was also disqualified. Over time, similar disqualifications were handed down involving a total of 14 Russian cross-country athletes.

“The athletes have been disqualified for life from taking part in the Olympic Games,” Valbe said at the time, without specifying the doping violations. Since that announcement, Valbe has stated, repeatedly, that she considers those disqualifications to have been politically motivated. Her assertion suggests plenty that is not immediately apparent, including an implication that those test results may not have been legitimate—may even have been tampered with or fraudulently created by the IOC or by technicians in its testing lab. Conversely, she may be suggesting that positive doping tests occur quite frequently without being reported . . . only this time the decision was made to publicly shame Russian athletes rather than sweeping the results under the rug as might have been done in the past. For decades, rumors have persisted that medal-winning athletes from both eastern bloc nations and western nations may have been caught cheating, only to be given a choice by sport governing bodies: retire from competition—leave and never come back—or face the public spectacle that would result from announcements of disqualifications and bans. If that’s ever happened, then we’ve all been cheated.

Certainly, revelations of cheating in Olympic events serves to tarnish the reputations of star athletes, while also darkening the image of the Olympic Games, themselves. We’d think that strict doping policies would be good for sport, but they actually turn out to harm practically everyone: athletes’ careers are ruined (though some of that ruination seems justified), individual sponsors are quick to distance themselves, Olympic sponsors are likely to pull their support, broadcast advertisers are likely to insist on lower ad rates—or to withdraw their involvement entirely—and television viewing numbers are diminished. The “value” of sport drops precipitously, which ends up being bad even for those athletes who insist on competing cleanly. Once it’s revealed that cheating is taking place, the audience just doesn’t have as much interest in watching anymore.

Here’s the dilemma: in its own charter, the international Olympic Committee identifies “the practice of sport is a fundamental human right.” What that means is the IOC can’t throw out every Russian athlete simply because the Russian system cheated. It’s not apparent that every Russian athlete was guilty of doping in Sochi (it seems strange that some of those athletes were left to compete “clean,” but that does seem to be the case). Can Russian athletes ever be trusted? No way . . . But does the International Olympic Committee grant itself the authority to drop a blanket-ban over them all? Also no . . .

The IOC and its associated sport governing bodies continue to consider whether Russian athletes wil be alllowed to participate in the 2026 Olympic Winter Games. Some governing bodies have already said “yes” (like figure skating). Other governing bodies have already said “no” (like biathlon). Still other governing bodies (like skiing) remain on the fence. Athletes remain in limbo, advertisers and sponsors remain undecided, and a worldwide viewing audience is yet to decide whether they will tune in, or not. Watching sport is great—watching cheaters, not so much. And the thought that there remain many more such cheaters (including athletes wearing national uniforms other than that of Russia) is both disturbing and unavoidable.