IOC’S soft touch on Russia has created a scandal
IF A CHILD IS ALLOWED TREATMENT WITH BANNED MEDICATIONS, WHAT ABOUT EVERYONE ELSE?
It has been six years since the extent of Russia’s state-sponsored doping program was revealed to a news audience in a Toronto hotel conference room. One scene from that morning at the Royal York in July 2016, sticks in the memory. A pair of reporters from Russian state television were trying to distil the essence of lawyer Richard Mclaren’s detailed report, which explained how Russia used its anti-doping program to do the exact opposite of that — not just providing performance-enhancing drugs to its athletes but doctoring the results of their tests if they got caught.
“The message is, ‘Russia bad. Let’s ban Russia,’ ” one of the reporters said to the other.
He wasn’t wrong. It did seem like, given the evidence of a report that cast doubt on the entire Russian anti-doping apparatus, that described how government agents, actual spies, had been used to carry out skulduggery at the Sochi 2014 drug lab, the only suitable punishment would be a widespread ban.
And yet, all this time later, that ban never did happen. Beijing 2022 is the fourth consecutive Olympics since the first Mclaren report in which Russia has sent a large delegation of athletes, many of whom have won medals. The International Olympic Committee and the World Anti-doping Agency have instead gone for half-measures, reluctant to implement a full-scale ban lest it sweep up clean Russian athletes. The flag and the anthem have been banned for the past three Games, but whether they are competing under the flag of Olympic Athletes from Russia or, as is the case here, the Russian Olympic Committee, this has been a punishment utterly without consequence. They are Russians, winning medals for Russia. It says it in the name.
The worst-case result of the IOC’S soft touch on the matter has now come to pass. A Russian world-record holder in one of the Olympics’ signature events was allowed to compete at Beijing 2022 despite having recently failed a drug test. She won a gold medal. She may yet win another. A decision in the case of 15-year-old figure skater Kamila Valieva is expected on Monday, a day before she is due to compete in the women’s singles event, but the losing side, either Russia or the IOC, will likely appeal it further. These Olympics will almost certainly be over before the legal process is exhausted. And, whatever happens, this is a bell that cannot be unrung. Either Valieva will be allowed to compete further, and keep her medal(s), despite a test that detected a banned substance, or she will be sanctioned, and every other athlete here will wonder if her case is proof that Russia’s doping schemes have continued apace. If the Russian sports system allows someone as young as Valieva — a literal child — to be treated with prohibited medications, what are they doing with everyone else?
Probably because it doesn’t want to consider the wider implications of this story just yet, the IOC has made a point in recent days of asking media to remember that there is a young athlete at the centre of it. A spokesman on Sunday urged those at a press briefing to “think about the human side of the story.” And that’s certainly fair. Valieva is unlikely of her own accord to have taken a heart medication that is said to boost endurance.
Of course there should have been a real ban for Russia, as punishment for what happened in 2014. But that horse has long since left the dacha. Instead, the IOC let it keep competing, and now a Russian child is at the centre of a high-profile scandal, right in the middle of an Olympics. Who could have possibly seen this coming, other than everyone?