The Winter Olympics are well underway, and once again we’re talking about “Individual Neutral Athletes” (AINs) from Russia and Belarus. For many, myself included, this designation feels less like a solution and more like a frustrating exercise in semantics.

If you’re going to ban a country, ban them. Ask South Africa whether its universal ban during apartheid made a difference. This halfway measure, however well‑intentioned, accomplishes little and only invites greater cynicism.

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THE “PREGNANT OR NOT” PROBLEM

It’s the classic “you’re either pregnant or you’re not” scenario. The International Olympic Committee (IOC) and various sports federations have banned Russian and Belarusian national teams and symbols in response to the war in Ukraine — a move many consider necessary. But then they allow individual athletes to compete under a “neutral” banner.

And that does what, exactly? Everyone knows what it means. An AIN from Russia is still a Russian athlete. This isn’t a true ban; it’s a thin veil of one. It lets the IOC make a political statement without enforcing a full, unambiguous consequence. In doing so, it creates a loophole that undermines the very purpose of the sanctions.

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The Uncomfortable Truth About Fairness

You feel for the individual athletes; how could you not? They’ve dedicated their lives to their sport. Most of us understand that individual athletes are not automatic supporters of their governments. Several American athletes in Milan have expressed “mixed emotions” about representing the U.S. due to domestic issues like immigration enforcement (ICE) and the political climate back home.

And the IOC disqualified Ukrainian skeleton racer Vladyslav Heraskevych, for refusing to remove a helmet showing images of Ukrainian athletes killed during the war with Russia. The IOC ruled the helmet violated Rule 50.2 of the Olympic Charter, which prohibits political demonstrations.

But here’s the rub: citizens are often judged by their governments’ actions. Ask any American traveling abroad during certain presidential terms — we’ve all been “tarred with that brush,” even when we vehemently disagreed with policy.

By that same logic, a complete, unequivocal ban on Russian and Belarusian athletes, however harsh, could serve a greater purpose. It might create a real, undeniable impact within those countries, potentially sparking public discourse or protest that could influence government policy. Maybe it wouldn’t — but the neutral banner eliminates even the possibility.

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Consequences Must Have Meaning

This isn’t just about geopolitics; it’s about integrity. Think about doping penalties: a two‑year ban is often just an extended missed training cycle. A true deterrent requires weight — a lifetime ban, a fraud conviction, even the possibility of jail time. Without real consequences, the penalty becomes part of the calculation.

Then there’s the baffling case of figure skating coach Eteri Tutberidze. She coached the last two Olympic gold medalists in women’s figure skating — and an athlete who received a four‑year doping ban. Yet here she is in Milan, credentialed and present at the Olympic arena. Her “penalty”? She can’t stand next to the ice during competition.

Seriously? This is the grand statement? The punishment for a coach whose athlete was involved in a major doping scandal? It borders on the comical. AIN President Vladimir Putin must be laughing in open derision.

When consequences are semantic — when they lack rigor — they command no respect. People will game the system. Whether it’s doping or representing a banned nation under a different name, the message is the same: the rules exist in name only.

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Stand or Don’t Stand

Ultimately, you either stand for something or you don’t. Right now, the “neutral athlete” policy — coupled with situations like the Tutberidze credentialing — feels like standing with one foot on each side, trying to have it both ways, and achieving little beyond frustrating those who believe in genuine accountability.

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