The upcoming 2022 FIFA World Cup in Qatar and its links to human rights violations has been the subject of many debates in the media and beyond. In particular, the respect of migrant workers’ labour rights was at the forefront of much public criticisms directed against FIFA. Similarly, past Olympics in Rio, Sochi or Beijing have also been in the limelight for various human rights issues, such as the lack of freedom of the press, systematic discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation or forced evictions. These controversies have led sports governing bodies (SGBs) to slowly embrace human rights as an integral part of their core values and policies. Leading to an increased expectation for SGBs to put their (private) diplomatic capital at the service of human rights by using their leverage vis-à-vis host countries of their mega-sporting events (MSEs). In turn, this also raises the question of the need for the EU to accompany this change by putting human rights at the heart of its own sports diplomacy.

Research collective 
This Multiplier Sporting Event, organised in the framework of the transnational project on ‘Promoting a Strategic Approach to EU Sports Diplomacy’ funded by the Erasmus + Programme, aims to trigger discussions on the role of an EU sports diplomacy in strengthening respect for human rights in the context of MSEs both at home and abroad. It will feature two roundtables focused on the one hand on the diplomatic power and capacity of SGBs to fend for human rights during MSEs and on the other on the EU’s integration of human rights considerations linked to MSEs in its own sports diplomacy.

Programme

13:20 – 14:00 – Welcome and opening speech –Antoine Duval (Asser Institute)
14:00 - 15:30 - Panel 1: Leveraging the Diplomatic Power of the Sports Governing Bodies for Human Rights

• Lucy Amis (Unicef UK/Institute for Human Rights and Business)
• Guido Battaglia (Centre for Sport and Human Rights)
• Florian Kirschner (World Players Association/UNI Global Union)
• Claire Jenkin (University of Hertfordshire)

15:30 – 16:00 - Coffee Break

16:00 - 17:30 - Panel 2: A Human Rights Dimension for the EU’s Sports Diplomacy?

• Arnout Geeraert (Utrecht University)
• Agata Dziarnowska (European Commission)
• Alexandre Mestre (Sport and Citizenship)
• Ministry of Health, Welfare and Sport (TBC)

17:30 - Reception

Editor’s note: Serhat Yilmaz (@serhat_yilmaz) is a lecturer in sports law in Loughborough University. His research focuses on the regulatory framework applicable to intermediaries. Antoine Duval (@Ant1Duval) is the head of the Asser International Sports Law Centre.

Last week, while FIFA was firing the heads of its Ethics and Governance committees, the press was overwhelmed with ‘breaking news’ on the most expensive transfer in history, the come back of Paul Pogba from Juventus F.C. to Manchester United. Indeed, Politiken (a Danish newspaper) and Mediapart (a French website specialized in investigative journalism) had jointly discovered in the seemingly endless footballleaks files that Pogba’s agent, Mino Raiola, was involved (and financially interested) with all three sides (Juventus, Manchester United and Pogba) of the transfer. In fine, Raiola earned a grand total of € 49,000,000 out of the deal, a shocking headline number almost as high as Pogba’s total salary at Manchester, without ever putting a foot on a pitch. This raised eyebrows, especially that an on-going investigation by FIFA into the transfer was mentioned, but in the media the sketching of the legal situation was very often extremely confusing and weak. Is this type of three-way representation legal under current rules? Could Mino Raiola, Manchester United, Juventus or Paul Pogba face any sanctions because of it? What does this say about the effectiveness of FIFA’s Regulations on Working with Intermediaries? All these questions deserve thorough answers in light of the publicity of this case, which we ambition to provide in this blog.

Paul Pogba: From Manchester to Juventus…and back 

On 3 August 2012, 19 years old Paul Pogba moved from Manchester United to Juventus on a free transfer. Four years later, his comeback to Manchester United was the most expensive transaction that the history of football ever recorded. Interestingly (and controversially), the latter transfer involved only one agent, Carmine “Mino” Raiola, acting on behalf of the three parties involved in the transaction. Indeed, on 20 July 2016, Raiola signed an agreement with Juventus stipulating that one of his companies, Topscore Sports Ltd, was contracted to find a suitable acquirer for the player before 31 August 2016 in return of a hefty commission payable by Juventus if Pogba was transferred for a minimum fee of €90,000,000 below which the club was not prepared to sell the player and the company was not entitled to any remuneration. A year before, one of Raiola’s many companies, Topscore Sports Ltd, had already been appointed by Juventus as of 1 March 2015 to facilitate the transfer of Pogba. The 2016 contract acknowledged that Topscore Sports Ltd succeeded in “creating hype around the future transfer” and triggered “a bidding war” to recruit the player. Hence, pursuant to the 2016 agreement, if Topscore managed to secure a transfer above the minimum fee, Juventus would pay to Raiola’s company €18,000,000. Furthermore, Raiola would earn €3,000,000 more for each €5,000,000 increase above the minimum fee of the final amount.

Simultaneously, on 27 July 2016, Mino Raiola signed a representation contract with the player through the Monaco based company Uuniqq Srl. The contract provided for a commission “amounting to 5% of the Player’s Basic Gross Income as result of any employment contract negotiated or renegotiated by the Intermediary”. While, on 8 August 2016, Raiola concluded, again through Uuniqq Srl, an agreement with Manchester United. On 9 August 2016, Juventus and Manchester United agreed to the transfer of Pogba for a compensation of €105,000,000. Pogba obtained a salary of €10,200,000 in 2016/2017, reaching €13,800,000 in 2017/2018. On top of that, he also secured a €2,200,000 bonus every time Manchester United qualifies for the Champions League and a €1,160,000 one in case he wins the ballon d’or. According to the agreement with Manchester United, the agent would be paid for his intermediary services five installments of €3,883,658 each, payable every 30 September from 2017 to 2020. In addition to that, Manchester United was undertaking the duty to pay the player’s fee to the agent. Consequently, Uuniqq Srl was also due to receive five installments of €516,342 each, payable on the same dates.

To sum up, as a consequence of Pogba’s transfer from Juventus to Manchester United, Topscore Sports Ltd collected a total commission of €27,000,000 from Juventus, consisting of the agreed minimum of €18,000,000 plus an additional €9,000,000 for overshooting his targeted transfer fee. Uuniqq Srl got a total commission of €22,000,000, resulting from the €19,420,000 (5 instalments of €3,883,658 each) paid by Manchester United as “club services” and €2,580,000 (5 instalments of €516,342 each) paid by the club as “player’s services” on behalf of Pogba. This is the contractual set-up leading to the headline number of € 49,000,000, but is it actually legal?  

Three key questions on the legality of Mino Raiola’s role in Pogba’s transfer

There is a tremendous amount of confusion in the press regarding the legality of the above-explained contractual arrangements. For example, FIFA might be investigating the transfer, but in practice it is not in a position of enforcing any direct sanctions, besides a fine for any misleading declarations of Manchester United or Juventus to the FIFA TMS, against the clubs, the player or the intermediary. Indeed, since the entry into force of the new FIFA Regulations on Working with Intermediaries (RWI) in 2015, the responsibility to police intermediaries has been delegated to national federations, in the present case the English FA and the Italian FIGC. It means in practice that the key question is whether Raiola, the clubs or the player complied with the obligations enshrined in the federations’ regulations. The Italian FIGC has not fulfilled its basic transparency obligations under the new FIFA rules, and should be sanctioned by FIFA for not doing so, thus it is impossible to assess whether Raiola and Juventus have complied with the FIGC’s rules. However, the FA has done his regulatory homework well and we believe that the case will raise numerous questions with regard to the compatibility of the behaviour of the parties with the FA’s Regulations on Working with Intermediaries (FA RWI).

• Is Mino Raiola's total fee/commission in breach of the FA RWI?

The fees payable to Mino Raiola by all parties involved in the transfer (Manchester United as “the registering club”, Juventus as “the former club” and Pogba as “the player”) seems to be the most controversial, and peculiar, aspect of the transfer. Mino Raiola is to receive almost 38% of the total value of Pogba’s contract from Manchester United and only 5% from Pogba directly. Despite the fact that the amount of these fees seems excessive in comparison to market standards under which the level of intermediary commission varies between 5% to 10% and in some of the most extreme cases 20% (see here and here), they do not as such breach the FA RWI. The English FA regulates remuneration payable to intermediaries under section C of its regulations and the indicative level of commission is at 3% (regulation C11). However, this is only a “recommendation” and is aimed at providing guidance to the market and not at constituting an absolute requirement. The non-binding nature of this restriction on the level of commission means that the parties to the transfer are free to negotiate a higher level of commission and this seems to be the case for the representation contracts between Manchester United, Pogba, and Mino Raiola. Additionally, the level of commission, if payable by the player, is to be calculated in accordance with the player’s gross annual income for the entire duration of the relevant employment contract (Article C11.a) whereas the Club’s fee is either based on the player’s gross annual income for the entire duration of the relevant employment contract (Article C11.b) or on the transfer compensation (transfer fee) paid in connection with the transfer (Article C11.c). Both the club and the player are entitled to make the payments to the intermediary in a lump sum or periodic instalments (Article C3 and C7). The club can also make the payments to the intermediary on behalf of the player, if a written request made by the player to do so, and periodic deductions from player’s salary can be made by the club to sanction those payments (Article C2.b). In the light of these provisions of the FA RWI,  the representation contracts published by the Danish news outlet, Politiken (see here) clearly prescribe the remunerations and payment schedules to Mino Raiola by both Manchester United and Pogba  and these contractual arrangements seem to be in compliance with the regulations.

• Can Mino Raiola represent all parties to the transfer?

The other controversial aspect of the transfer is the representation arrangements by Mino Raiola in respect of Manchester United, Pogba and Juventus. According to the documents published by Politiken and Mediapart, Mino Raiola represented both Manchester United and Pogba under the same transaction. At this point, distinction needs to be made between the dual representation (the intermediary represents the player and either the registering or the former club) and the multiple representation (the intermediary representing the player, the registering club and the former club) as the FA RWI uses both terminologies interchangeably. However, the distinction between the dual and the multiple representation becomes clear under the Intermediary Declaration Form IM1 (see here), the document that must be completed by all parties to the transfer and lodged with the English FA. The document clearly outlines declaration requirements in respect of representation of the player, the registering club and the former club. The representation arrangements between Manchester United, Pogba and Mino Raiola is a dual representation, which is clearly acknowledged by the English FA in its annual disclosure of individual transactions registered, where Mino Raiola and his company, Uuniqq Srl, are listed as the representative of both the Club and the Player (see here). Additionally, as mentioned above, Mino Raiola had also a representation contract with Juventus for the sale of the player. Under the circumstances, it seems the representation contract with Juventus adds another layer to the representation arrangements and constitutes the element of multiple representation with regards to the FA RWI. These arrangements clearly raise the possibility of a conflict of interest, therefore, the English FA allow dual/multiple representation only if the intermediary and the other relevant parties to the transfer strictly comply with the consent requirements of its regulations (Article E1). Otherwise the intermediary may only act for one party to the transfer (Article E1) and cannot receive any remuneration from other parties (Article E3).

Firstly, if the intermediary has a pre-existing representation contract with one party (“the first party”) to the transfer, then that contract should be lodged with the English FA (Article E2.a). In this case, the extracts of representation contract refer to “the player representation contract” between Pogba and Mino Raiola which seems to indicate the existence of a representation contract prior to the multiple representation arrangements. Therefore, it is safe to assume that Pogba could be “the first party” to the transaction and the existing representation contract can constitute a pre-existing representation contract under the FA RWI which should have been lodged with the English FA prior to the other representation arrangements. Secondly, the intermediary should obtain all parties’ (emphasis added) prior written consent to provide services to any other party to the transaction (“the other party(ies)”) (Article E2.b) meaning that Mino Raiola should have obtained the consent of Manchester United, Pogba and Juventus to enter into the multiple representation arrangements. Then, once the intermediary and the other party(ies) agree on the terms of representation, prior to entering into actual representation contracts, the intermediary must inform all parties of the full details regarding the proposed fee to be paid by all parties to the intermediary (Article E2.c). Mino Raiola, should not only have sought the consent of all parties to the multiple representation but also disclosed them the level of fees payable to him by each party. Finally, all parties to the transfer should be given opportunity to seek independent legal advice on the proposed arrangements and provide their written consent for the intermediary to enter into dual/ multiple representation arrangements with other parties (Article E2.d, E2.e).

 As a result, the key focus of the investigation initiated by FIFA but which will inevitably move to the English FA seems to be whether Mino Raiola complied with the regulatory requirements imposing written consent prior to entering into the multiple representation arrangements. Due to the involvement of different companies located in multiple jurisdictions, it is particularly important that the representation contract with Juventus was disclosed to other parties of the transfer, i.e., Manchester United and Pogba and included under the IM1 form. A potential non-compliance with these requirements would constitute a regulatory breach. The omission of information under the relevant paperwork by the parties might be considered as the concealment or misrepresentation of reality and/or substance of any matters in relation to the transaction which is also regulatory breach (Article A3). Any regulatory breach shall be misconduct and sanctioned accordingly (Article F1). All parties involved have potentially, if a multiple representation agreement was not disclosed to the FA, breached the FA rules. However, only Juventus and Raiola knew with certainty about this multiple heads. It is doubtful that the FA could sanction Juventus, which is out of its jurisdictional reach (one could potentially envisage a transfer ban to the FA). Yet, Raiola’s multiple companies must be registered with the FA to conclude transfers with Premier League clubs, thus if he fails to demonstrate that he obtained prior written consent from all the parties to the multiple representation, one could envisage that the FA would suspend their registrations.

• Who has authority to investigate and sanction Mino Raiola for regulatory breaches (if there is any)?

The final central question is: which governing body, in this case either the English FA, the Italian FIGC or FIFA, has the authority to investigate and sanction potential regulatory breaches in the transfer? The jurisdictional nexus derives from the international dimension of a transfer involving two different associations, (English FA and Italian FIGC) and the application of FIFA Regulations on Status and Transfer of Players (FIFA RSTP). It gets even more complicated if Raiola’s original intermediary registration with the Dutch FA is taken into consideration. Against this background, the FIFA Regulations on Working with Intermediaries (FIFA RWI)’s fundamental aim was to bring some transparency in an opaque market and Article 9.1 FIFA RWI authorises associations to hand out sanctions on any party under their jurisdiction that commits regulatory breach of FIFA regulations as well as their statutes or regulations. The article implies therefore that either the English FA or the Italian FIGC (or the Dutch KNVB) may have the authority to sanction Raiola if he falls under their jurisdiction. In the case of intermediaries, the jurisdiction is generally inferred by the registration and the English FA obliges any applicants to submit to its jurisdiction through the declaration under its intermediary registration process. A close scrutiny of the English FA’s intermediary disclosures reveals Mino Raiola’s intermediary registration as natural person (see here). He has also registered his five companies as legal persons including Uuniqq Srl (see here) which is the one used for the transfer of Pogba with the English FA. These registrations could provide the English FA with jurisdiction over Mino Raiola to investigate the transaction and, if any regulatory breach is proven, to impose any sanctions. The investigative power of the English FA over Minor Raiola also derives directly from his registration under which he consented to communicate to the English FA , for the purposes of investigation, all contracts, agreements and records in connection with his activities as an intermediary. Moreover, if for any reason Mino Raiola gets eventually sanctioned by the English FA, FIFA would have the authority to extend the sanction worldwide (Article 9.2 of FIFA RWI). 

Conclusion: Regulating intermediaries without FIFA 

What are the broader lessons we can learn from this case?

• First, the transfer market remains, despite the recent TPO ban and FIFA RWI, an opaque market on which conflicts of interest are routine. In this regard, FIFA’s decision to retreat from any direct involvement in the regulation of intermediaries, despite the obvious shortcomings of the old licensing system, has proven to be a relatively poor and to some extent incoherent choice. The legitimate objectives invoked to ban TPO are in turn betrayed by the decision to let go of any supervision of intermediaries. In general, the cognitive dissonance of FIFA vis-à-vis the transfer system is striking, it attacks on the one hand (rightly in the view of one of us) the financiarization of football through TPO, but supports it on the other by maintaining in place a system that transforms players into speculative assets.

• Second, the scope of regulation of intermediaries is now exclusively dependent on the decisions of national federations. If the English FA decides to crack down on conflicts of interest in the transfer market, it will have a tremendous impact on the way intermediaries operate. The English market represents a huge share of the whole transfer market and is hardly avoidable for major intermediaries. Further, if the federations of the so-called big five (England, France, Italy, Germany, Spain) leagues would accept to coordinate their intermediaries’ regulations, they would have such a dominant market position that in practice they would very much define how the transfer market operates. In this regard, the Pogba case will be decisive (and symbolic) to determine whether the English FA is ready to lead the way down a stricter regulatory road.

• Third, fans (and their clubs) are the ultimate losers of this state of play, they should rebel! The intermediaries’ fees are a consequence of the structural lack of competition and transparency in the transfer market. In the end, those who are going to the stadium every week or have an expensive subscription to watch the Premier League are paying the intermediaries. We the consumers of football are the ones on the losing end of this masquerade of a market. If clubs are unwilling to assert their contractual rights against ruthless intermediaries, it is unlikely for example that Manchester United will ask compensation from Mino Raiola if he omitted to inform them of the obvious conflicts of interest in the Pogba transfer, their supporters (and shareholders) should try to force them to do so.

Editor's note: Prof. Dr. Ekşi is a full-time lecturer and chair of Department of Private International Law at Özyeğin University Faculty of Law. Prof. Ekşi is the founder and also editor in chief of the Istanbul Journal of Sports Law which has been in publication since 2019.

While Article 10 of the European Convention on Human Rights (‘ECHR’) secures the right to freedom of expression, Rule 50 of the Olympic Charter of 17 July 2020 (‘Olympic Charter’) restricts this freedom. Following the judgments of the European Court of Human Rights (‘ECtHR’) relating to sports, national and international sports federations have incorporated human rights-related provisions into their statutes and regulations. They also emphasized respect for human rights. For example, Article 3 of the Fédération Internationale de Football Association (‘FIFA’) Statutes, September 2020 edition, provides that “FIFA is committed to respecting all internationally recognised human rights and shall strive to promote the protection of these rights”. Likewise, the Fundamental Principles of Olympism which are listed after the Preamble of the of the Olympic Charter 2020 also contains human rights related provisions. Paragraph 4 of Fundamental Principles of Olympism provides that the practice of sport is a human right. Paragraph 6 forbids discrimination of any kind, such as race, colour, sex, sexual orientation, language, religion, political or other opinion, national or social origin, property, birth or other status. In addition, the International Olympic Committee (‘IOC’) inserted human rights obligations in the 2024 and 2028 Host City Contract.[1] The IOC Athletes’ Rights and Responsibilities Declaration even goes further and aspires to promote the ability and opportunity of athletes to practise sport and compete without being subject to discrimination. Fair and equal gender representation, privacy including protection of personal information, freedom of expression, due process including the right to a fair hearing within a reasonable time by an independent and impartial panel, the right to request a public hearing and the right to an effective remedy are the other human rights and principles stated in the IOC Athletes’ Rights and Responsibilities Declaration. Despite sports federations’ clear commitment to the protection of human rights, it is arguable that their statutes and regulations contain restrictions on athletes and sports governing bodies exercising their human rights during competitions or in the field. In this regard, particular attention should be given to the right to freedom of expression on which certain restrictions are imposed by the federations even if it done with good intentions and with the aim of raising awareness.

The provisions prohibiting propaganda and political demonstrations are enshrined in the statutes and regulations of international and national federations. For example, International Football Association Board (‘IFAB’) Laws of the Game 2020/2021 states that players must not reveal undergarments that display any political, religious, personal slogans, statements or images, or advertising other than the manufacturer’s logo.[2] As with any offence, the player and/or the team will be sanctioned by the competition organiser, national football association or by FIFA. On the one hand, freedom of expression is listed among the rights of athletes in Paragraph 11 of the IOC Athletes’ Rights and Responsibilities Declaration[3], on the other hand, Rule 50(2) of the Olympic Charter restricts demonstrations or political, religious or racial propaganda, which may adversely affect freedom of expression. The propaganda ban was first introduced by the 1967 Olympic Charter.[4] This ban has been retained in later versions with minor modifications. Under the title of “propaganda advertising, demonstration”, Rule 50(2) of the current version of the Olympic Charter[5] provides that “no kind of demonstration or political, religious or racial propaganda is permitted in any Olympic sites, venues or other areas”. The aim of Rule 50(2) of the Olympic Charter in prohibiting political statements is to maintain the neutrality of sport.[6] Rule 50(2) is only applicable in Olympic venues, namely on the field of play, in the Olympic Village, during Olympic medal ceremonies or during the opening, closing and other official ceremonies.[7] Displaying any political messaging, including signs or armbands, gestures of a political nature, like a hand gesture or kneeling, and refusal to follow the ceremonies protocol are some examples of what would constitute a protest, as opposed to expressing views non-exhaustingly indicated in Rule 50 Guidelines Developed by the IOC Athletes’ Commission.[8]

A disciplinary sanction can be applied against an athlete who has breached Rule 50(2) of the Olympic Charter. This sanction can be reviewed by the ad hoc division of the Court of Arbitration for Sport (‘CAS’) established for the Olympic Games.[9] An arbitral award of CAS can be challenged before the Swiss Federal Court on the grounds listed in Article 190 of the Swiss Private International Law including public policy.[10] Since freedom of expression is among the fundamental human rights guaranteed by Article 10 of the European Convention on Human Rights, the Swiss Federal Tribunal may rule that a CAS arbitral award is incompatible with public policy. The limitations set out in the statutes and regulations of the national and international sports federations pertaining to the freedom of expression are aimed to protect the neutrality of sport and separate it from political, religious or any other type of interference; however, one cannot exclude potential challenges to be filed against Switzerland before the ECtHR. As in the Pechstein and Mutu cases, the sports community, including CAS, anxiously awaited what the ECtHR would decide. The judgements of the ECtHR have been taken into consideration and respect for human rights has been integrated in the statutes of some SGBs, including the IOC Charter.

Although the IOC is established as an association under the Swiss Association Law, the rules of its Charter may adversely affect the enjoyment of certain human rights. Freedom of expression is enshrined not only in Article 10 of the ECHR but also in other international human rights legislative instruments, including Article 19 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights of 1948, Article 11 of the EU Charter of Fundamental Rights, Article 17(1) of Council of Europe Convention on Preventing and Combating Violence against Women and Domestic Violence, Article 19 of the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights. Article 10 of the ECHR covers not only the disclosure of political ideas, but also the freedom to disclose any literary, commercial and other ideas. The freedom of expression protected under Article 10 of the ECHR is not limited to words, written or spoken, but it extends to pictures and images including tv or radio broadcasts, films as well as electronic information etc.[11] The right to freedom of expression can be restricted in certain circumstances provided in the provisions of the human rights instruments. Although these instruments are hard law for the Member States, statutes and regulations of the international or national SGBs contain restrictions as to the right to freedom of expression. International or national SGBs are mostly established as associations.[12] The problem so far has arisen as to how national or international sports federations can restrict the rights and freedoms guaranteed by the national constitutions and international conventions.

Article 10 of the ECHR can also be applied in the field of sports because athletes can address a wide public during the competitions and may protest human rights violations or political events in their own country or elsewhere. Human rights violations including the right to freedom of expression may also occur in countries where the Olympic Games are held.[13] Generally, the IOC and its international federations take the necessary measures to ensure that athletes do not make political statements during competition. In fact, in 1967 famous boxer Mohammad Ali refused to fight in Vietnam to protest racial segregation.[14] During the 1968 Mexico City Summer Olympics, after winning the gold and the bronze medal in the 200-meter sprint, American athletes Tommie Smith and John Carlos stepped onto the podium barefoot, shared a pair of black gloves and raised their fists in the air when the national anthem played to protest against black poverty and lynching.[15] The IOC reacted swiftly and harshly to this 1968 black power salute, immediately suspending the athletes.[16] The history of sports has recorded various examples of athletes who were sanctioned or ostracized because they had exercised their freedom of expression. Colin Kaepernick and Eric Reid kneeled or sat on the bench while the national anthem was played as a protest against racial discrimination and police brutality against people of colour in the United States.[17] Both players were not contracted in the NFL in the subsequent season.[18] Czech national gymnast Vera Caslayska’s career ended as she protested against Soviet hegemony in her country during a medal ceremony in Mexico in 1968.[19] John Carlos and Tommie Smith were suspended immediately from the United States Olympic Team as a result of the black power salute.  FIFA fined the England Football Association because its members displayed poppies, a symbol of National Armistice Day, during the World Cup qualifier against Scotland. Likewise, Scottish and Irish clubs were fined for flying the Palestinian flag in stadiums.[20] “During the Sochi Games, the IOC even reprimanded athletes for placing small stickers on their helmets in memory of deceased freestyle skier Sarah Burke, calling the gesture political”.[21]

Sometimes an athlete makes futile efforts to obtain permission to protest the situation in their countries. The request by Ukrainian athletes to wear a black headband to remember those who died during the political demonstrations in Kiev was rejected by the IOC as political propaganda. However, protests or demonstrations by athletes may not always contain political content. For example, Cheryl Maas, a Dutch and gay skier, wanted to wear rainbow gloves to protest Russia’s anti-gay legislation, but he was not allowed.  

As there is no judgment of the ECtHR to confirm whether or not Rule 50(2) of the Olympic Charter complies with Article 10 of the ECHR, various arguments have been put forward by academics. Dhonchak thinks the rule set out in Rule 50(2) of the Olympic Charter must be struck down at the earliest.[22] However, Faut puts forward two solutions which could increase compliance with Article 10 of the ECHR. “The first one lies in more transparent and less excessive sanction mechanisms. A second option would be a laxer prohibition on political statements in the Olympic Charter, covering a smaller range of incidents”.[23] Anmol believes that IOC could also re-assess its position and come-up with fresh guidelines that uphold a balanced political speech before the Tokyo Olympics 2021.[24] For example, the IOC could allow the disciplinary body to assess the speech by examining its content and core intentions in accordance with the Fundamental Principles of Olympism set out in the Olympic Charter. Shahlaei states that “perhaps the solution lies somewhere in the middle. To maintain their general political objectivity, sports organizations could continue to prohibit purely domestic political gestures, such as flying a banner in support of a preferred presidential candidate. At the same time, they could allow athletes to express support for human rights, such as racial equality”.[25]

However, it should be noted that Rule 50 of the Olympic Charter in no way eliminates freedom of expression. In accordance with the Rule 50 Guidelines developed by the IOC Athletes’ Commission, outside the Olympic venues athletes have the opportunity to express their opinions during press conferences and interviews or at team meetings or on digital or traditional media, or on other platforms. Any protest or demonstration outside Olympic venues must obviously comply with local legislation wherever local law prohibits such actions.[26] Nonetheless, this discussion will surely continue until the ECtHR will shed light on the application of Article 10 of the ECHR to Rule 50(2) of the Olympic Charter.

[1] Although certain steps have been taken on human rights by IOC since Sochi Olympics, they are found by Grell unsatisfactory and creates uncertainty in several ways. For more information see Tomáš GRELL, The International Olympic Committee and Human Rights Reforms: Game Changer or Mere Window Dressing?, 17(2018) International Sports Law Journal, p. 161 et seq.

[2] IFAB Laws of the Game 2020/2021, The Players’ Equipment, p. 60: https://resources.fifa.com/image/upload/ifab-laws-of-the-game-2020-21.pdf?cloudid=d6g1medsi8jrrd3e4imp (accessed 17.5.2021).

[3] https://olympics.com/athlete365/who-we-are/athletes-declaration/(accessed 18.4.2021).

[4] FAUT, 254-255. For the text of the Olympic Charter of 1967 see http://www.olympic.org/Documents/Olympic%20Charter/Olympic_Charter_through_time/1967-Olympic_Charter.pdf. (accessed 20.4.2021).

[5] Olympic Charter in force as from 17 July 2020 © International Olympic Committee, Lausanne, 2020.

[6] Rule 50 Guidelines Developed by the IOC Athletes’ Commission: http://stillmedab.olympic.org/media/Document%20Library/OlympicOrg/News/2020/01/Rule-50-Guidelines-Tokyo-2020.pdf

[7] Rule 50 Guidelines Developed by the IOC Athletes’ Commission.

[8] Rule 50 Guidelines Developed by the IOC Athletes’ Commission: http://stillmedab.olympic.org/media/Document%20Library/OlympicOrg/News/2020/01/Rule-50-Guidelines-Tokyo-2020.pdf (accessed 17.4.2021).

[9] Johan LINDHOLM, From Carlos to Kaepernick and beyond: Athletes’ Right to Freedom of Expression, 17(2017)1-3 International Sports Law Journal, p. 2.

[10] LINDHOLM, 2.

[11] Frédérique FAUT, The Prohibition of Political Statements by Athletes and its Consistency with Article 10 of the European Convention on Human Rights: Speech is Silver, Silence is Gold?, 14(2014) International Sports Law Journal, p. 257; Monica MACOVEI, Freedom of Expression Human Rights Handbooks, No. 2 A guide to the Implementation of Article 10 of the European Convention on Human Rights, 2^nd edition, January 2004, p. 7.

[12] For the criticisms about the extraordinary autonomy that sports governing bodies enjoy under Swiss law see Margareta BADDELEY, The Extraordinary Autonomy of Sports Bodies under Swiss Law: Lesson to be Drawn, 20(2020) International Sports Law Journal, p. 3-17.

[13] For the human rights violations occurred in China during Beijing Olympic Games see Bruce KIDD, Human Rights and Olympic Movement after Beijing, 13(2010) Sports in Society, p. 901-909.

[14] Faraz SHAHLAEI, When Sports Stand Against Human Rights: Regulating Restrictions on Athlete Speech in the Global Sports Arena, 38(2017)1 Loyola of Los Angeles Entertainment Law Review, p.100.

[15] ANMOL, 67; SHAHLAEI, 101.

[16] SHAHLAEI, 101.

[17] ANMOL, 66; Brendan SCHWAB, Celebrate Humanity: Reconciling Sport and Human Rights through Athlete Activism, 28(2018)1 Journal of Legal Aspects of Sport, p. 170-171.

[18] SCHWAB, 171 footnote 2.

[19] SCHWAB, 171 footnote 6; ANMOL, 66.

[20] SHAHLAEI, 108.

[21] SHAHLAEI, 108-109.

[22] Dhananjay DHONCHAK, Rule 50 of the Olympic Charter-Protesting Racial Inequality, 04.09.20: https://opiniojuris.org/2020/09/04/rule-50-of-the-olympic-charter-protesting-racial-inequality  (accessed 17.4.2021).

[23] FAUT, 262.

[24] Jain ANMOL, Political Speech in Sports: A Case for Non-Prohibition, 2(2020)1 Journal for Sports Law, Policy and Governance, p. 73.

[25] SHAHLAEI, 116.

[26] Rule 50 Guidelines Developed by the IOC Athletes’ Commission.

On 15 April 2014, the Cairo Economic Court (the “Court") issued a seminal judgment declaring the broadcasting of a football match a sovereign act of State.[1]

Background

In Al-Jazeera v. the Minister of Culture, Minister of Information, and the Chairman of the Board of Directors of the Radio and Television Union, a case registered under 819/5JY, the Al-Jazeera TV Network (the “Plaintiff” or “Al-Jazeera”) sued the Egyptian Radio and Television Union (“ERTU” or the “Union”) et al. (collectively, the “Respondents”) seeking compensation for material and moral damages amounting to three (3) million USD, in addition to interest, for their alleged breach of the Plaintiff’s exclusive right to broadcast a World Cup-qualification match in Egypt.  Al-Jazeera obtained such exclusive right through an agreement it signed with Sportfive, a sports marketing company that had acquired the right to broadcast Confederation of African Football (“CAF”) World Cup-qualification matches.

ERTU reportedly broadcasted the much-anticipated match between Egypt and Ghana live on 15 October 2013 without obtaining Al-Jazeera’s written approval, in violation of the Plaintiff’s intellectual property rights.

Arguments of the Parties

Plaintiff’s Position

The Plaintiff explained that its right was protected by various provisions of Law No. 82/2002 on the Protection of Intellectual Property Rights (the “IP Law”). Most notably, the Plaintiff referred to Article 139, which provides for copyright protection for both Egyptians and citizens of World Trade Organization member States, and Article 149, which grants copyright owners the right to transfer, in writing, all or some of their rights in the copyrighted content to third parties.

In addition, the Plaintiff stated that Articles 157, 158 and 159 of the IP Law gave it exclusive economic rights in the content it owned or acquired, which precludes the exploitation of broadcasting the match in any manner (including its reproduction and communication to the public) by a third party without its prior written authorization.

By broadcasting the match live on Egyptian channels without obtaining the Al-Jazeera’s prior written authorization, ERTU - the Plaintiff argued - breached the Plaintiff’s intellectual property rights that are protected under Egyptian and international law.  

Respondents’ Position

The Respondents emphasized the political nature of the decision to broadcast the match. They argued that Egypt’s executive branch of government was entitled to take decisions respecting the broadcasting of the match in the interest of Egypt, and its peace and security, without incurring any penalty or enduring judicial scrutiny.  The Respondents added that broadcasting the match was an activity that took place entirely within Egypt pursuant to an executive decision and, as such, was an act of State that was immune to judicial scrutiny. Accordingly, broadcasting the match did not violate any laws or agreements. 

Judgment on Jurisdiction

The Court began its assessment of the case by examining its jurisdiction in accordance with Article 109 of the Code of Civil and Commercial Procedures, which grants courts the power to rule on their own jurisdiction in any case before them.  Then, it consulted Law No. 13 /1979 relating to the Egyptian Radio and Television Union, as amended (the “ERTU Law”), which provided for the establishment of a national authority under the name of “Egyptian Radio and Television Union”.  Among other things, the ERTU Law states that the Union is (i) deemed a national authority that assumes all the functions and duties associated with audio-visual media and broadcasting services in Egypt; (ii) shall have a separate juridical personality; and (iii) shall be subordinated to the Minister of Information.

The Court established that the decision to broadcast this match was issued by ERTU, a national authority entitled to broadcast audio-visual media in Egypt for the purpose of achieving national interests and services, and ensuring collective interest in all aspects including sports.

Against this background, the Court concluded that the Union’s decision to broadcast the match fell within the Union’s mandate, which was to be exercised on Egyptian territory and without interfering with the sovereignty or law of another state.  Therefore, the decision to broadcast the game was, in the opinion of the Court, an act of sovereignty that may not be the subject of litigation; and the executive authority was permitted to take all necessary measures in Egypt’s interests, while enjoying immunity against court supervision.  

Finding that it lacked jurisdiction, the Court did not address the Plaintiff’s claims relating to its intellectual property rights.

Lessons Learned and Next Steps

The judgment raises several questions regarding the scope of sovereign powers that can be exercised by a State.  Most importantly, it provides a novel interpretation of what constitutes an act of State. Furthermore, the decision will likely push companies entering into broadcasting agreements with the Union to take various precautions, such as  subjecting potential disputes to international arbitration, as opposed to the supervision of local courts. 

The judgment comes as another blow to Al-Jazeera in Egypt, which saw three of its journalists sentenced by an Egyptian court to prison terms ranging from seven (7) to ten (10) years for charges that included spreading false news. One of the journalists, Peter Greste, has already been deported to his native Australia pursuant to a decree law that allows the deportation of foreigners to their home countries to stand trial or serve the remainder of their sentence.  The other journalists have been released on bail and are currently awaiting their retrial after the Court of Cassation, Egypt’s highest court, quashed their sentence.

On 11 June 2014, Al-Jazeera appealed the Court’s decision to the Court of Cassation, explaining that a sovereign act of State can be easily distinguished from regular administrative activities such as the ones typically performed by the Union.  According to Al-Jazeera, an act of State covers high political considerations, such as the protection of national interests, upholding the terms and principles of the Constitution, and overseeing Egypt’s relations with other States to ensure domestic and international peace and security. A football match does not meet any of these criteria.

It is likely that the Court of Cassation will overturn the Court’s judgment in light of Egypt’s IP Law and the fact that broadcasting and licensing agreements are a regular business activity.  It is also important to observe how the Court of Cassation will address the lower Court’s novel interpretation of the act of State doctrine. While soccer is the most popular sport in Egypt, it is unclear how broadcasting a match can be linked to a State’s higher political interests.

Equally unclear is how Al-Jazeera will react should the Court of Cassation uphold the judgment, and whether it will consider resorting to international arbitration given that Egypt and Qatar signed a bilateral investment treaty in 1999 that protects investors’ intellectual property rights, among other things.

[1] Tarek Badawy (tarek.badawy@shahidlaw.com), Inji Fathalla (inji.fathalla@shahidlaw.com), and Nadim Magdy (nadim.magdy@shahidlaw.com) are Attorneys-at-Law at Sarwat A. Shahid Law Firm (“Shahid Law”) in Cairo, Egypt.  The views expressed in this articles are those of the authors and do not constitute legal advice. 

 Editor's Note: Dr. Despina Mavromati, LL.M., M.B.A., FCIArb is an Attorney-at-law specialized in international sports law and arbitration (SportLegis) and a Member of the UEFA Appeals Body. She teaches sports arbitration and sports contracts at the University of Lausanne (Switzerland) and is a former Managing Counsel at the Court of Arbitration for Sport.

This comprehensive book of more than 500 pages with contributions by 53 authors and edited by Nick De Marco QC “aims to embody the main legal principles and procedures that arise in football law”. It is comprised of 29 chapters and includes an index, a table of football regulations and a helpful table of cases including CAS awards, UEFA & FIFA Disciplinary Committee decisions and Football Association, Premier League and Football League decisions. 

The 29 chapters cover a wide range of regulatory and legal issues in football, predominantly from the angle of English law. This is logical since both the editor and the vast majority of contributing authors are practitioners from England.

Apart from being of evident use to anyone involved in English football, the book offers additional basic principles that are likely to be of use also to those involved in football worldwide, including several chapters entirely dedicated to the European and International regulatory framework on football: chapter 3 (on International Federations) gives an overview of the pyramidal structure of football internationally and delineates the scope of jurisdiction among FIFA and the confederations; chapter 4 explains European law and its application on football deals mostly with competition issues and the free movement of workers; and chapter 29 deals with international football-related disputes and the Court of Arbitration for Sport (CAS).

In addition to the chapters exclusively dealing with international football matters, international perspectives and the international regulatory landscape is systematically discussed – in more or less depth, as the need might be – in several other chapters of the book, including: chapter 2 on the “Institutions” (from governing bodies to stakeholders groups in football); chapter 6 on the FIFA Regulations on the Status and Transfer of Players (RSTP); chapter 8 dealing with (national and international) player transfers; chapter 11 (on Third Party Investment) and chapter 16 on Financial Fair Play (mostly discussing the UEFA FFP Regulations); chapter 23  on disciplinary matters (very briefly discussing the disciplinary procedures under FIFA and UEFA Disciplinary rules); chapter 24 on domestic and international doping-related cases in football, with an overview of the CAS jurisprudence in this respect; and finally chapter 23 on corruption and match-fixing (with a very short description of the FIFA and UEFA regulations).

Furthermore, the book offers extensive chapters in less discussed – yet of high importance – football topics, including: chapter 13 on image rights and key clauses in image rights agreements; chapter 14 on taxation (referring also to taxation issues in image rights and intermediary fees); chapter 15 on sponsoring and commercial rights, with a guide on the principal provisions in a football sponsoring contract and various types of disputes arising out of sponsorship rights; chapter 17 on personal injury, discussing the duty of care in football cases (from the U.K.); and chapter 18 on copyright law and broadcasting (with short references to the European law and the freedom to supply football broadcasting services).

Some chapters seem to have a more general approach to the subject matter at issue without necessarily focusing on football. These include chapters 27 (on mediation) and 22 (on privacy and defamation), and even though they were drafted by reputable experts in their fields, I would still like to see chapter 27 discuss in more detail the specific aspects, constraints and potential of mediation in football-related disputes as opposed to a general overview of mediation as a dispute-resolution mechanism. The same goes for chapter 22, but this could be explained by the fact that there are not necessarily numerous football-specific cases that are publicly available. 

As is internationally known, “football law” is male-dominated. This is also demonstrated in the fact that of the 53 contributing authors, all of them good colleagues and most of them renowned in their field, only eight are female (15%). Their opinions, however, are of great importance to the book due to the subject matter on which these women have contributed, such as player contracts (Jane Mulcahy QC), player transfers (Liz Coley), immigration issues in football (Emma Mason), broadcasting (Anita Davies) or disciplinary issues (Alice Bricogne).

The book is a success not only due to the great good work done by its editor, Nick De Marco QC but first and foremost due to its content, masterfully prepared by all 53 authors. On the one hand, the editor carefully delimited and structured the scope of each topic in a logical order and in order to avoid overlaps (a daunting task in case of edited volumes with numerous contributors like this one!), while on the other hand, all 53 authors followed a logical and consistent structure in their chapters and ensured an expert analysis that would have not been possible had this book been authored by one single person.  

Overall, I found this book to be a great initiative and a very useful and comprehensive guide written by some of the most reputable experts. The chapters are drafted in a clear and understandable way and the editor did a great job putting together some of the most relevant and topical legal and regulatory issues from the football field, thus filling a much-needed gap in the “football law” literature.

Editor's Note:  Marjolaine is an attorney admitted to the Geneva bar (Switzerland) who specialises in sports and life sciences.   She currently participates as a scientific collaborator at the University of Neuchâtel on a research project to produce the first article-by-article legal commentary of the 2015 World Anti-Doping Code. Her latest book Evidence in Anti-Doping at the Intersection of Science & Law was published in 2016 in the International Sports Law Book Series of T.M.C. ASSER Press.

INTRODUCTION

On 30 September 2016, a panel of the Court of Arbitration for Sport (“CAS”) rendered its award in the matter opposing high-profile tennis player Maria Sharapova to the International Tennis Federation (“ITF”). Maria Sharapova was appealing the two-year ban imposed on her by the ITF Tribunal in June 2016 for her use of Meldonium, a substance newly added to the WADA Prohibited List 2016[1]. Since neither the ITF nor WADA had chosen to challenge the Tribunal’s decision, the stakes of the case were rather simple: would the player convince the CAS panel that she should benefit from a finding of “No Significant Fault or Negligence”[2], thereby allowing for a reduction of the sanction down to a minimum of one year, or should the decision of the Tribunal be upheld? In its award, the CAS panel decided to grant such finding and reduced the sanction to 15 months.

This blog does not purport to be a ‘comment’ on the CAS award. Rather, it seeks to place the Sharapova matter into a broader context with respect to a specific issue: the expectations on Athletes when it comes to their awareness of the prohibited character of a substance, specifically when taking a medication[3]. In July 2016, I presented at the T.M.C Asser Institute in The Hague various current challenges of anti-doping that the Meldonium cases exposed (see the video here). One of these challenges concerned the modalities for including new substances onto the Prohibited List. This blog represents a follow-up on my presentation, in the light of the findings contained in the CAS award.

More concretely, the blog takes as a starting point one finding in the award, made by the CAS panel when evaluating whether the player acted reasonably in entrusting her sport agent – who lacked any medical or other scientific qualification – with ensuring that her medication scheme stayed compliant with the World Anti-Doping Program[4]:

“checking a substance against the Prohibited List is not an action for which specific anti-doping training is required. It is expected to be made, as a rule and under Article 3.1.2 of the TADP, by the player personally, and a player does not need to have scientific or medical expertise for such purpose. No standard in the WADC or otherwise raises such a high bar”[5].

This statement may have raised some eyebrows among readers familiar with anti-doping, after years of repeated warnings that Athletes should not only consult a doctor before taking a medication, but preferably a doctor versed in sports medicine, and that they have to take responsibility for failing to do so if the medication turns out to be prohibited.

CAS JURISPRUDENCE: BETTER SEE TWO DOCTORS THAN ONE

Since many – if not most – substances on the Prohibited List are originally therapeutic products, there is a rich body of CAS case law revolving around the Athlete’s duty to seek specialized advice before taking a medication. As the panel in the Cilic v. ITF matter noted, Athletes have a reinforced duty of care, in particular: “[w]here the product is a medicine designed for a therapeutic purpose. Again, in this scenario, a particular danger arises, that calls for a higher duty of care. This is because medicines are known to have prohibited substances in them”[6].

Though the basic position taken in the Cilic v. ITF appears uncontradicted or even supported in other CAS decisions[7], CAS case law is fluctuating on the level of diligence that can be expected from Athletes when taking a medication. It seems common ground that failure to consult a health professional is a factor pleading against the Athlete when assessing his or her degree of Fault, and, conversely, that seeking professional advice tends to make the Fault lighter[8]. The exact contours of the diligence expected, and the consequences of a failure to exercise such diligence, however, are less uniformly defined. Circumstances taken into account may include: whether the Athlete acted in an emergency or had ample time to do verifications[9]; whether the Athlete did seek some professional advice (although not necessarily fully qualified one) or proactively enquired about risks related to doping[10]; whether the Athlete initially received clearing through a doctor and was simply careless in continuing use of the medication[11], or used the medication without any attempt to seek a prescription altogether[12]; and whether the Athlete subsequently obtained a Therapeutic Use Exemption (“TUE”)[13].

Nevertheless, there seems to be consensus among CAS panels on at least one point: failure to recognize the prohibited character of the active substance in a medication never justifies a finding of No Fault or Negligence, even upon (erroneous) advice from a qualified health professional[14]. This jurisprudence finds explicit support in the Comment to Article 10.4 of the WADC: “Athletes are responsible for their choice of medical personnel and for advising medical personnel that they cannot be given any Prohibited Substance”[15]. The idea behind the jurisprudence is clear: it avoids that Athletes could ‘hide’ behind the advice of a doctor, who would then simply admit to having made an egregious error[16]. The CAS panel’s statement in the Sharapova matter seems to put in question this apparently well-established point of jurisprudence: if, as the panel assumed, the WADC only expects the Athlete to personally check a substance against the Prohibited List, no Fault can be held against the Athlete if it can be shown that the prohibited character of the substance was not recognizable to the Athlete, irrespective of whether such prohibition would have been obvious to a qualified health professional.

HOW CAN AN ATHLETE VERIFY WHETHER A MEDICATION IS PROHIBITED?

Putting aside for a moment the consistency of the Sharapova award with past CAS jurisprudence and its impact on the WADC system as a whole, the finding of the CAS panel raises a more practical question: is it realistic to consider that there is no duty on the Athlete to call on scientific or medical expertise to determine whether a substance is prohibited?

In order to assess this question, let us imagine the situation of an Athlete who plans to take – or is already taking – a medication, and wants to make sure that the substance does not raise any doping issues:

1. The Athlete would need to know that the substance will (as a rule) not be listed by its brand or trade name, but by the name of the active substance. More precisely, WADA announced in 2014 that it seeks to enhance the clarity of the Prohibited List by using the nomenclature of the WHO International Non-Proprietary Name (“INN”). The rationale for always listing active substances rather than trade names is rooted in a reality of international sports that one and the same active substance may be marketed under different names in different countries. For example, ‘Meldonium’ is a WHO recommended INN, which is marketed, among others, under the name ‘Mildronate’. While the distinction should be obvious to a health professional, it is much less certain that determining the active substance will always lie within the abilities of an Athlete. In the Sharapova matter, the player did in fact argue that both her manager and she “mistakenly, but honestly, believed Mildronate to be the name of the substance and did not realize that it was a brand name”[17].
2. The Athlete would need to know that the exact chemical name and spelling of a substance may vary depending on usage, language and country[18]. Thus, an automatic search through the Prohibited List is not sufficient. The Athlete would either need to do a search for all potential spellings and/or read through a few hundred substances on the List, since it is hardly imaginable that the Athlete would be able to determine on his or her own within which class of substances the medication falls. In addition, some substances may have synonyms that do not appear on the Prohibited List, but only in accompanying documents such as a WADA Explanatory Note[19]. Searching a drug database established by the Athlete’s National Anti-Doping Organization (“NADO”) is not necessarily a fool proof method either, since NADOs typically only include in their database therapeutic products that are registered or otherwise approved for sale in the relevant country[20]. Thus, a negative search result may simply mean that the medication has not (yet) obtained approval in the country.
3. An additional factor to take into account is the ‘open’ nature of the Prohibited List. The List is non-exhaustive, in the sense that it does not list each Prohibited Substance by its name. Instead, most classes include a list of examples followed by a catch-all clause. For these non-named, ‘similar’ or ‘related’, substances, the Athlete would thus need to assess whether the medication has a chemical structure and/or effect similar to other substances named on the Prohibited List[21].
4. Finally, it would be difficult to advise the Athlete as to what entity – prior to the CAS panel in a doping dispute – would have the authority to preventively ‘clear’ a substance upon enquiry. A negative search result on the WADA Prohibited List search engine appears with the following response: “No results: If a Substance or a Method you have searched for is not found, please verify with your Anti-Doping Organization to ensure that this Substance or Method is not prohibited as a related Substance or Method that falls under an existing category”.

However, it is not clear at all under the current system that an International Federation or NADO have the authority to issue a binding clarification in this respect, and WADA does not appear prepared to take on this ‘clearing’ function. In fact, the WADA Q&A on the Prohibited List openly acknowledges that the status of some substances may not be clear-cut and that “it is in the best interest of the athlete to refrain from taking any substance or use any method if its status is unknown or unclear”[22].

Considering the elements above, one may legitimately question the idea expressed in the CAS award that checking a substance against the Prohibited List is an act that is to be performed by the Athlete personally and that there is no expectation in the WADC that the assessment should be done by a qualified professional.

AN ISSUE OF FAULT OR AN ISSUE OF PREDICTABILITY?

There is some truth to the statement in the Sharapova award in the context of the WADC, but not in the sense one would expect: when it comes to finding that a violation has been committed, the WADC does not care whether one could reasonably expect the Athlete to be aware of the prohibited character of the substance. Article 3.2.1 of the ITF Tennis Anti-Doping Programme (“TADP”) referenced in the award addresses the dynamic character of the prohibition under the WADA Prohibited List and reads, in fine[23]: “It is the responsibility of each Player and each Player Support Personnel to be familiar with the most current version of the Prohibited List”. The expression “responsibility of each Player” – which reflects the duty expressed in Article 2.1 of the WADC – has never been understood as meaning that Athletes are only expected to check the Prohibited List personally. It means that Athletes will need to carry the consequences if they are not aware of its current content.

This regulatory situation is implicit in all awards in which CAS panels are asked to deal with an argument that the Athlete was not aware of the prohibited character of the substance: as soon as a substance is determined to be prohibited and was present in the Sample, there is no question that an anti-doping rule violation was committed under Article 2.1 of the WADC[24]. Rather, the predictability is examined, if at all, under the angle of the degree of Fault, to determine the severity of the applicable sanction under Article 10[25].

By contrast, if the statement by the CAS panel in the Sharapova matter were to be taken literally, the debate would no longer be limited to the degree of Fault, but would directly affect the predictability of the prohibition for the Athlete. If the WADC truly only expected Athletes to personally check a substance against the Prohibited List, the predictability of the prohibited character would have to be defined according to an Athlete’s capabilities. There are arguments to support such a position: anti-doping rules of an International Federation – including the Prohibited List incorporated therein – are made binding on Athletes through contractual (or otherwise consensual) means. As early as 1994, the panel in Quigley v. UIT noted that: “any legal regime should seek to enable its subjects to assess the consequences of their actions”[26]. An analogy with the fiction nemo censeture ignorare legem, developed with respect to state law, is difficult to sustain. In a contractual context, the contents of the parties’ agreement needs to be interpreted based on what the other party could reasonably understand[27]. Even if elite Athletes undertake to keep themselves informed about the evolution of the rules, this implies that there may be certain limits on this undertaking.

Thus, if one were to follow the CAS panel’s findings in Sharapova that Athletes are expected to check the Prohibited List personally, one would need to deny the predictability of the prohibition in each case in which the prohibited character of the substance could not reasonably be recognized by the Athlete him- or herself, and thus find that an element of the anti-doping rule violation is missing. While a literal reading of the statement may evoke such an extreme outcome, it is unlikely that the CAS panel had in mind such implication for its statement. There is no other indication in the award that the CAS panel meant to question the ‘fiction’ of awareness of the prohibition that has been generally accepted in CAS jurisprudence, or its corollary of strict liability. In fact, the arbitrators were not asked to do so, since Maria Sharapova did not challenge the anti-doping rule violation itself.

MORE COMMUNICATION IS NOT ALWAYS BETTER COMMUNICATION

The reason why CAS panels refrain from analyzing the issue under the angle of legal predictability – apart from the fact that the parties generally do not raise this defence – is probably because, unlike the degree of Fault, predictability of the scope of the prohibition allows for no graduation: either the finding of an anti-doping rule violation can be supported, or it cannot.

Accordingly, CAS panels prefer to attenuate the harshness of the regime by evoking a framework of ‘reciprocal’ duties between Anti-Doping Organizations and Athletes. This is also perceivable in the Sharapova award, in which the CAS panel expressed its view that: “anti-doping organizations should have to take reasonable steps to provide notice to athletes of significant changes to the Prohibited List, such as the addition of a substance, including its brand names”.

The extent of the “reasonable steps” expected from the Anti-Doping Organizations, and the repercussions in case of a failure to take appropriate steps in a particular matter, however, is not clear[28]. In particular, the Sharapova award does not clarify whether the communication has to be such that the Athlete can genuinely be expected to verify the prohibited character of a substance personally, without specialized assistance. Though the sections in the Sharapova award addressing this issue could convey such an impression, it is unlikely that this was the CAS panel’s intent. Other paragraphs regarding the ‘delegation test’, on the contrary, clearly point at an inevitable need for medical support. As part of their assessment of the player’s Fault, the panel noted a default to instruct and supervise her agent, in particular: “to put him in contact with Dr Skalny [the physician who had prescribed the medication to Maria Sharapova] to understand the nature of the Skalny products”. According to the panel, if an Athlete could simply delegate their obligations to a non-trained third party without properly instructing them, “such a finding would render meaningless the obligation of an athlete to avoid doping”. Between the lines, the CAS panel thus acknowledges that it is part of an Athlete’s duty of diligence to involve a physician when circumstances so warrant.

In our view, the level of communication expected from Anti-Doping Organization must take into account the nature of the substance, as well as the channels through which an Athlete is supposed to come into contact with this substance. As far as medications are concerned, communication that makes the prohibited character of a substance easily identifiable for a health professional (e.g. a doctor or a pharmacist), would appear an adequate and sufficient level of communication. There is no doubt that the Prohibited List has evolved to a degree of complexity that imposes heightened duties on Anti-Doping Organizations to do their share to prevent inadvertent violations. However, while appropriate communication is essential, caution must be applied with respect to communication of information of a very technical nature. The information related to the Prohibited List is at the intersection of two technical domains: it is both a legal and a scientific-medical document. In this constellation, one should also factor in the risk that more communication would merely increase the potential for misunderstanding. It might be preferable for Anti-Doping Organizations to refer to one unique document with accurate and precise language that can be interpreted reliably by the relevant professional, than to draft multiple ‘information notices’, ‘warnings’ etc. attempting to adapt the information to lay-persons also, but in which each minor change of wording may create new ambiguities. Of note, this also supposes an appropriate training and awareness on part of the health professions, in particular those practitioners who know they are regularly dealing with sportspeople.

THE NEXT MISSION OF ANTI-DOPING: SAFER ELITE SPORT?

The finding in the Sharapova v. ITF award that no anti-doping training is needed to ascertain the status of a substance, and that the check is to be conducted, as a rule, by the Athlete personally, without scientific or medical qualifications being required, should not be taken in isolation from its context. It would be dangerous to assign too strong a precedential value to this element in the CAS panel’s analysis. In other sections of the award, the CAS panel acknowledged - at least between the lines - that checking a medication against the Prohibited List without appropriate specialized advice is not commendable and would hardly be sufficient to consider that the Athlete discharged his or her duties of diligence under the WADC.

More generally, CAS panels have so far refrained from assessing the predictability of the prohibited character of a medication as a requirement for establishing an anti-doping rule violation. However, they do seem to recognize that there are certain duties on Anti-Doping Organizations to assist Athletes in properly performing their own duties under the WADC. Communication deemed insufficient will not invalidate an anti-doping rule violation, but may be taken into account in reducing the Athlete’s degree of Fault. This can be viewed as an incentive towards intensified communication efforts on part of the anti-doping movement, but without jeopardizing the prohibition itself in individual cases.

Ultimately, the lesson to retain from the Sharapova award – and the Meldonium cases in general – goes beyond the duty for Athletes to be aware of the prohibited character of a substance. The underlying question that these cases raise is the health risk involved in elite sport, and the Athlete’s willingness to go to great lengths to practise at the highest level. There is widespread abuse of medications – sold over-the-counter or reused after an initial prescription – in the population in general[29]. Athletes are not an exception, but the problem seems to be exacerbated by competitive sport, where Athlete often feel they depend on a ‘quick fix’ to a health condition to meet their goals[30].

As pointed out in a previous comment to the ITF Tribunal Decision in Sharapova, it is not for adjudicatory bodies to deliver a ‘moral’ judgement on the manner in which elite sport should be practised. The CAS panel was asked to consider whether Maria Sharapova was at Fault with respect to her anti-doping duties, not whether she was conveying a ‘respectable’ or ‘responsible’ image of elite sport, or whether she was acting reasonably in terms of healthcare.

Nevertheless, given the WADC’s stated goal of protecting the Athlete’s health, the anti-doping movement cannot entirely disregard the messages that are sent out to Athletes when it comes to the use of medication. CAS awards indirectly reflect the panels’ perceptions on the subject, and the diverging attitudes that also coexist in health systems in general. In the eyes of some CAS panels, including in the matter of Maria Sharapova, taking a medication without medical supervision or outside the purposes for which the medication was prescribed does not seem to constitute Significant Fault[31]. When Athletes are at times held to extremely high standards of care for taking nutritional supplements[32], or even for being sabotaged at a social drink[33], CAS panels should be mindful not to encourage Athletes to view self-medication as part of their training routine.

[1] The decision was commented on http://wadc-commentary.com/sharapova/

[2] The capitalized words in the text are terms defined in the World Anti-Doping Code (« WADC »).

[3] Defining what is to be considered a ‘medication’ for purposes of anti-doping is a delicate topic in itself and will be the object of a separate analysis in a future blog. Within the context of the Sharapova decision, typical ‘medications’ envisaged here are those in the core domain of prescription drugs, without regard to borderline cases (health supplements, herbal remedies, functional food etc.).

[4] The CAS panel chose a tripartite test known in the liability of the employer in Swiss tort law, based on the ‘three culpa’ : culpa in eligendo (lack of diligence in choosing the person), culpa in instruendo (lack of diligence in instructing the person), or culpa in custodiendo (lack of diligence in supervising the person) (see Sharapova award, para. 85). The details of this test and its appropriateness for the context of anti-doping will be analyzed on the WADC Commentary Anti-Doping Blog http://wadc-commentary.com/antidopingblog/ .

[5] Sharapova award, para. 88 iii.

[6] CAS 2013/A/3335, Cilic v. ITF, para. 75 b.

[7] CAS 2016/A/4371, Lea v. USADA, para. 91, limiting, however, this duty of diligence to the situation « of an athlete taking prescribed medication fo the first time »; in the Sharapova award, para. 84, the panel also insisted that Athlete cannot be expected in each case to meet all factors proposed in the Cilic guidance.

[8] “Did the athlete consult appropriate experts” is a factor to assess the Athlete’s objective Fault in the guidance issued in CAS 2013/A/3335, Cilic v. ITF, para. 74; CAS 2015/A/3876, Stewart v. FIM, paras 77/78; CAS 2011/A/2645, UCI v. Kolobnev & RCF, para. 92, with further references; CAS 2006/A/1133, WADA v. Stauber, para. 39.

[9] CAS 2006/A/1133, WADA v. Stauber, para. 36.

[10] CAS 2008/A/1565, WADA v. CISM & Turrini, para. 66.

[11] CAS 2011/A/2645, UCI v. Kolobnev & RCF, paras 87 & 93.

[12] CAS 2010/A/2229, WADA v. FIVB & Berrios, para. 100 ; CAS 2011/A/2585, WADA v. Marino & UCRA, para. 112.

[13] CAS 2015/A/3876, Stewart v. FIM, paras 77 & 84.

[14] CAS 2008/A/1565, WADA v. CISM & Turrini, para. 63 ; CAS 2006/A/1133, WADA v. Stauber, para. 35 ; CAS 2005/A/828, Koubek v. ITF, para. 60; even applied to an Athlete who was administered the substance as part of an emergency treatment in hospital but failed to subsequently enquire about the substance that had been administered (CAS 2006/A/1041 Vassilev v/ FIBT & BBTF); even applied if the tournament organization delivered the wrong medication after prescription by the official tournament doctor (CAS 2005/A/951, Cañas v. ATP).

[15] See also Article 21.1.4 of the WADC, whereby Athletes are “to take responsibility to make sure that any medical treatment received does not violate anti-doping policies and rules adopted pursuant to the Code”.

[16] CAS 2006/A/1133, WADA v. Stauber, para. 35.

[17] Sharapova award, para. 43 v.

[18] See e.g. the stimulant spelt “metamfetamine” in the WADA Prohibited List, is spelt “methamphetamine” in FDA-approved drugs.

[19] CAS 2013/A/3075, WADA v. Szabolcz, para. 9.8.

[20] See e.g. the drug enquiry database of Swiss Anti-Doping: “This database contains drugs authorized in Switzerland, only.”

[21] For a critical analysis, see Viret Marjolaine (2016), Evidence in Anti-Doping at the Intersection of Science & Law, T.M.C Asser Press / Springer, The Hague, pp 465-479.

[22] For more details, see Viret Marjolaine (2016), Evidence in Anti-Doping at the Intersection of Science & Law, T.M.C Asser Press / Springer, The Hague, pp 472-477.

[23] This provision concretizes Article 4.1 of the WADC.

[24] In CAS OG 12/07, ICF & Sterba v. COC & IOC, which involved a non-listed stimulant, the CAS panel noted that the use of the substance by the Athlete “could have been avoided if indeed the substance had been expressly included on the Prohibited List or in any other data base that can be easily accessed with modern technology and the internet”, but added that “This, of course, does not change the fact that the Anti-Doping violation occurred”, but was “important and relevant in respect to assessing and examining the level of fault of the Respondent and the consequential sanction” (para. 6.6.18).

[25] See e.g. CAS 2016/A/4371, Lea v. USADA, para. 92, citing the CAS jurisprudence that “athletes should have clear notice of conduct that constitutes an anti-doping rule violation”, but only to determine the degree of fault involved in failing to anticipate the excretion time needed for a substance prohibited In-Competition only.

[26] CAS 94/129, quoted in CAS 2016/A/4371, Lea v. USADA, para. 92.

[27] This was explicitly recognized, though with respect to a violation of failure to submit to Sample collection, in CAS 2008/A/1557, FIGC, Mannini & Possanzini v. WADA, paras 6.15 et seq.

[28] For a more extensive analysis, see the upcoming contribution on the WADC Commentary Anti-Doping Blog,

[29] E.g. the WHO warnings about antibiotics resistance acquired through inadequate use of antibiotics without specialized advice (e.g. prescribed for viral infections, or patients using the rest of their tablets when they experience similar symptoms).

[30] See e.g. the current debate surrounding the use of glucocorticoids among elite Athletes, and the use of TUEs for common health conditions after the data leaks revealed by hackers.

[31] CAS 2016/A/4371, Lea v. USADA, para. 91, in which the Athlete had taken a medication prescribed for pain relief as a sleep aid, as he had witnessed his teammates do.

[32] CAS 2009/A/1870 WADA v. Hardy & USADA, para. 120.

[33] CAS 2008/A/1515, WADA v. Daubney & Swiss Olympic, para. 125.