56 International The EconomistFebruary 10th 2018
2 or urine test. For some drugs micro-dos-
ing—taking an amount too small to detect—
can still give an edge. Or doping may hap-
pen before an athlete’s career starts in ear-
nest, and thus before she falls under
anti-dopingrules. A study in 2013 by Kris-
tian Gundersen of the University of Oslo
found that the performance-enhancing
benefits ofsome drugs can last a lifetime.
The use of diuretics, which increase uri-
nation and can mask performance-enhan-
cers as a side-effect, is becoming more so-
phisticated. The development of “designer
drugs”—compounds with similar effects to
known performance-enhancers but unde-
tectable in testing—means that the authori-
ties are constantly running to stay still.
Some athletes may already be using ex-
perimental gene therapies, says Paul Di-
meo, one of the authors of a forthcoming
book, “The Anti-Doping Crisis in Sport”.
On top of all that, anti-doping rules and
enforcement are easy to get around. Ex-
emptions for medical purposes are be-
lieved to be widely abused. Some athletes
claim to be severely asthmatic, for exam-
ple, to get permission to inject cortico-
steroids. Athletes can miss three tests in a
year before facing suspension. Sometimes
the testers seem incompetent or over-
whelmed. On some days during the 2016
Summer Olympics in Rio de Janeiro, al-
most half of all drugs tests were aborted
because they could not find the athletes. Medal peddling
Occasionally, athletes may not know they
have doped. Last July ten blind Russian
powerlifters were banned for using meth-
andienone, a steroid, although WA DA ac-
cepted they might have been given it with-
out their knowledge. But most know full
well what they are doing, says Olivier Nig-
gli, WA DA’s director-general.
Not a tenth are ever caught, estimates
Don Catlin, an anti-dopingscientist. A
study in 2014 estimated that 14-39% of elite
athletes were doping intentionally. But
only 1-2% ever test positive. At the Athletics
World Championships in 2011, 0.5% of
competitors failed tests. But in an anony-
mous survey byWA DA, only recently pub-
lished, 30% admitted to using illegal drugs
in the year before the competition.
The failings of the drug-testing system
mean whistleblowers are particularly
valuable. But they are taking a big risk. Two
former employees ofRussia’snational
anti-doping agency have died in suspi-
cious circumstances, and two more are in
hiding in America. The former director of
the Jamaican Anti-Doping Commission,
who exposed weaknesses in the country’s
anti-dopingagency before the 2012 Olym-
pics, said she was called a “traitor” and had
to move house after receiving threats.
Given the many difficulties, anti-dop-
ing authorities need formidable resources.
They do not receive them. Their total annu-al budget, worldwide, is around $300m.
For comparison, the total income of the
world’s sporting federations and leagues is
more than $50bn a year. WA DA’s budget in
2016 was only $28.3m. “The answer is no,
clearly no,” says Mr Niggli, when asked if
WA DA has enough cash.
WA DA does few tests itself, instead co-
ordinating national and regional anti-dop-
ing agencies, and international federations
such as the IOCand FIFA, football’s go-
verning body. Their standards vary from
excellent to hopelessly compromised.
WA DA’s investigation found that Russia’s
anti-doping authority colluded with gov-
ernment agencies—including the intelli-
gence services—to “lose” dodgy results and
substitute fake blood and urine samples
for real, incriminating ones. It worked out
how to open “tamper-proof” sample bot-
tles with the aid of dentistry tools.
Even when governments or sports au-
thorities are not corrupt, they may not be
keen to uncover wrongdoing, says Mr Nig-
gli. “There’s sometimes a lack of appetite
for scandals when it comes to their own
sport or their own country.”
WA DA’s governance structure means
that it struggles to act independently. Half
of its funding comes from national govern-
ments, and half from the IOC. Its main
committees are split in the same way. Since
two-thirds majorities are required for deci-
sions such as banning a country from
events, either the IOC or a group of like-
minded countries can stop it from setting a
tough line, whether out of national pride,
fear of putting off fans or sponsors—or sim-
ply the wish for a quiet life.
With dopingso common and so rarely
punished, athletes face an unappealing
choice. They may not want to dope, but
knowing that many of their competitors
do, they may feel thatthey must, too. Tim
Montgomery, an American sprinter who
broke the 100-metre world record in 2002
in a time that was later ruled void because
he had doped, described performance-en-
hancing drugs as necessary “to secure a
real contract” and “worth the risk”.
That risk can be large. Between 1987 and1990, 20 Belgian and Dutch cyclists sus-
pected of usingEPA died of heart attacks.
Eight more died of heart attacks across Eu-
rope in 2003-04. A study published in 2007
of 52 EastGerman athletes who had been
given anabolic steroids in the 1970s and
1980s concluded they had suffered serious
health problems as a result. A third report-
ed considering or attempting suicide. The
women suffered miscarriages and still-
births at a rate 32 times that of the national
population. Of their 69 surviving children,
seven have physical deformities and four
are mentally handicapped.Cheat’s charter
Some hope that sponsors’ desire to stay
clear of tainted names, and fans’ desire to
see clean competition, could act as a check
on doping. And indeed a sport may be-
come less popular after a scandal—at least
if broadcasters take fright. “Doping can
have a large negative impact on coverage
arrangements, and hence viewing figures,”
says Kevin Alavy of Futures Sport + Enter-
tainment, a consultancy. German free-to-
air television stations stopped covering the
scandal-hit Tour de France for several
years, in part because of allegations
against Patrik Sinkewitz, a German cyclist.
Yet when fans do learn about doping,
they do not always seem to care much.
One study found that a publicised doping
violation in baseball led to a brief fall-off in
attendance, but had no impact a fortnight
later. When dopingis common but has not
yet come to light, it can make a sport more
exciting and thus more profitable. In 1998
Mark McGwire broke baseball’s home-run
record, boosting interest in the sport. He
later admitted he had been on steroids.
The risk of sponsors or broadcasters
pulling out ifdoping is revealed can even
add an incentive to those with a financial
interest in a sporting event to turn a blind
eye. “Potentially you have a conflict of in-
terest when policing sport and trying to get
sponsors at the same time,” says Mr Niggli.
Dick Pound, a former president ofWA DA,
puts it more bluntly. Doping in sport, he
says, is an “inconvenient truth that is de-
nied, ignored, tolerated or encouraged”.
Some pin their hopes on “athlete bio-
logical passports”, which were launched
in 2008. These record physiological trends,
establishing baselines for an athlete
against which suspicious changes can be
spotted, even if testing picks up no banned
substance. They could be far more effective
than urine tests, says Andrea Petroczi of
Kingston University in London.
But biological passports are expensive.
So far they are barelyused outside cycling,
which has suffered a series of scandals.
Only 28,000 passport sampleswere ana-
lysed across all sports in 2016. As long as
the risks of being caught are low and the
potential rewards of dopinghigh, athletes
who stay clean risk being outclassed. 7