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.

Editor's note: Conor Talbot is a Solicitor at LK Shields Solicitors in Dublin and an Associate Researcher at Trinity College Dublin. He can be contacted at ctalbot@tcd.ie, you can follow him on Twitter at @ConorTalbot and his research is available at www.ssrn.com/author=1369709. This piece was first published on the humanrights.ie blog.

Sport is an integral part of the culture of almost every nation and its ability to shape perceptions and influence public opinion should not be underestimated.  The United Nations has highlighted the potential for using sport in reducing discrimination and inequality, specifically by empowering girls and women.  Research indicates that the benefits of sport include enhancing health and well-being, fostering empowerment, facilitating social inclusion and challenging gender norms.

In spite of the possible benefits, the successful implementation of sport-related initiatives aimed at gender equity involves many challenges and obstacles.  Chief amongst these is the way that existing social constructs of masculinity and femininity — or socially accepted ways of expressing what it means to be a man or woman in a particular socio-cultural context — play a key role in determining access, levels of participation, and benefits from sport.  This contribution explores recent developments in the interaction between transgender and intersex rights and the multi-billion dollar industry that the modern Olympic Games has become.  Recent reports show that transgender people continue to suffer from the glacial pace of change in social attitudes and, while there has been progress as part of a long and difficult journey to afford transgender people full legal recognition through the courts, it seems clear that sport could play an increasingly important role in helping change or better inform social attitudes.

Background

“The practice of sport is a human right.  Every individual must have the possibility of practising sport, without discrimination of any kind and in the Olympic spirit, which requires mutual understanding with a spirit of friendship, solidarity and fair play.” - Olympic Charter

While proclaiming the practice of sport to be a human right, the Olympic Charter unequivocally states that the International Olympic Committee (IOC) has “supreme authority” over the staging of the Olympic Games.  Under the IOC’s stewardship, and in line with other major sporting events worldwide, a narrative has been carefully cultivated to the effect that events such as Olympic Games would not be possible without the support and resources of the broadcasters and, ultimately, sponsors.  Therefore, while on the one hand, the use of sports as a development tool and strategy to reduce discrimination generally is growing, there is also a distinct field of commentary which is critical of the approach of the Olympic “industry”  (indeed, the term "industry" is used to  draw attention to the profit-making goals of the Olympics).

Given the top-down nature of sporting governance, research from Wales and Scotland reveals that whilst many lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender people continue to be put off by negative experiences or the perception that it is an unpleasant and unsafe environment for LGBT people.  This post focuses in particular on the treatment of transgender and intersex athletes under the rules enforced by international sporting federations.  In attempting to get ahead of the curve with transgender issues, with the stated aim of protecting the sporting integrity (and therefore the reputational and commercial value) of competitions by minimising sex-related advantages, the IOC has a long history of insensitive and often unproductive testing protocols for athletes.  As it is probably the most visible of all international sporting federations, the IOC became the standard bearer for such testing policies and, indeed, it has been argued that IOC policies gave impetus (and sometimes political cover) for other groups to follow suit.

Gender/Sex Verification Tests and the Stockholm Consensus

The issue of gender- or sex-verification gained global attention in recent times after South African runner Caster Semenya was ordered to undergo tests after winning the 800m world title in 2009.  She was eventually cleared to compete by the IAAF and won silver in the 800m at the 2012 London Olympics.

IOC had maintained a practice of conducting gender verification tests at the Olympic Games, with the testing of Dora Ratjen in 1938 and Foekje Dillema in 1950 being early cases to gain attention.  The initial testing protocols amounted to rather crude and undoubtedly humiliating physical examinations.  These techniques later gave way to the method of determining ‘sex’ chromatin through buccal smear examination, introduced at the Mexico City Olympic Games in 1968. Chromosome-based screenings were criticised for being unscientific and unfairly excluding many athletes, in particular since only the chromosomal (genetic) sex is analysed by sex chromatin testing, not the anatomical or psychosocial status.  These techniques were abandoned by the IAAF in 1991 and the IOC since Sydney 2000.

Under the so-called Stockholm Consensus, the IOC granted permission for men and women who had undergone gender reassignment surgery to participate in competitive sport.  The Consensus recommended that individuals undergoing sex reassignment from male to female after puberty (and the converse) be eligible for participation in female or male competitions, respectively, once surgical anatomical changes had been completed (gonadectomy), legal recognition of their assigned sex had been conferred; and verifiable hormonal therapy had been administered for a sufficient length of time to minimise gender-related advantages. Under the Consensus, eligibility for competition could begin no sooner than two years after the athlete’s gonadectomy.

Regulation of Hyperandrogenism in Female Athletes

Hyperandrogenism is a term used to describe the excessive production of androgens (testosterone).  Given its influence on endurance and recovery, controversies have arisen in the past surrounding cisgender women athletes with high levels of testosterone.  An Indian sprinter, Dutee Chand, was suspended by the IAAF in 2014 due to her elevated testosterone levels.  However, the Court of Arbitration for Sport (CAS) suspended the IAAF rule in July 2015, on the grounds that the IAAF had failed to prove that women with naturally high levels of testosterone had a competitive edge.  The CAS ordered the IAAF to present new scientific evidence regarding the degree of competitive advantage enjoyed by hyperandrogenic females by July 2017, otherwise its 2011 Regulations Governing Eligibility of Females with Hyperandrogenism to Compete in Women’s Competition would be declared void. 

While Chand was cleared to compete following her high profile appeal, a study published in April 2013 in the Journal of Clinical Endocrinology & Metabolism, a US peer-reviewed journal for endocrine clinical research, recounts the rather less fortunate fate of four anonymous young athletes who, it appears, were effectively forced to undergo surgery to allow them to compete in women’s sports ahead of the 2012 Olympics.  When the story emerged in June 2013, the IAAF reportedly denied that it had taken place.

The young women, who were 18, 20, 21, and 20 years of age at the time of the study, came from rural or mountainous regions of developing countries.  Clinical inspection of the women revealed varying degrees of intersexuality: they had never menstruated and had male bone characteristics, no breast development and partial or complete labial fusion.  Consanguinity was confirmed for three of them (first cousins in two cases and siblings in another) and was suspected in the fourth case with her parents originating from neighbouring villages.  The authors of the report opine that the gender abnormalities of the athletes may not have been formally diagnosed or given medical attention because they had been born in rural regions of countries with poor care.  In all cases, they were tall, slim, muscular women and had manifested strong motivation and high tolerance to intensive daily training, which had made them good candidates for elite sports competition. 

Rather than requesting gender change, the study reports that the athletes wished to maintain their female identity in order to continue elite sport in the female category.  Although leaving male gonads carried no health risk, and despite the negative effect that a gonadectomy would have on their performance levels and general health, the athletes underwent the feminising surgical procedures.  The study concludes that the sports authorities then allowed them to continue competing in the female category one year after their procedures.  The radical nature of the surgery required, as well as the unknown future impact on the athletes’ health, highlight the dangers of such policies for inclusion in women's sporting events.

New IOC Guidelines

Under new IOC Transgender Guidelines, which were reported as stemming from an unpublicised Consensus Meeting on Sex Reassignment and Hyperandrogenism, surgery such as that described above will no longer be required.  Female-to-male transgender athletes are now eligible to take part in men’s competitions “without restriction”, while male-to-female transgender athletes will need to demonstrate that their testosterone level has been below 10 nanomols per litre for at least one year before their first competition.  That said, the IOC document does contain a provision allowing for a the imposition of a period of longer than one year, based on a confidential case-by-case evaluation, considering whether or not 12 months is a sufficient length of time to minimize any advantage in women’s competition.  No further detail is provided on the nature of these case by case evaluations so it is unclear just how much progress these guidelines actually represent compared to the crude sex verification tests used in the past.  Again, the IOC justifies these regulations as being necessary to avoid accusations of an unfair competitive advantage. 

The IOC document also refers directly to CAS decision in relation to Dutee Chand.  Specifically, the IOC encourages the IAAF, with support from other International Federations, National Olympic Committees and other sports organisations, to revert to CAS with arguments and evidence to support the reinstatement of its hyperandrogenism rules.  Therefore, the IOC’s appears to contest the validity of the CAS award and seems determined to provide scientific grounds for upholding its ban on female athletes with elevated levels of testosterone, even where it is naturally occurring and the athletes’ bodies are partially unable to process it.

Taken together, the net result of these regulations is that if a female transgender or intersex athlete’s natural testosterone levels are considered too high, she is expected to undergo treatment to reduce her testosterone to levels considered to be within the normal range for women before being allowed to compete in women’s sports.  This has come to be the subject of severe criticism because it is argued that such athletes are being medically harmed by sport under these regulations.  Testosterone is essential for the development of male growth and masculine characteristics, and is vital for any athlete in aiding recovery times from physical exertion.  Although the health effects of the presence of high levels of testosterone in women’s bodies is still the subject of research, testosterone occurs naturally in both males and females and would appear to be vital for the body’s all-round health.

Kristen Worley Litigation

The potential for these testosterone limits to lead to harm to the athletes involved is the focus of a major case being brought by a Canadian cyclist, Kirsten Worley, a female athlete who has transitioned from male to female by undergoing sex reassignment surgery with the result that she no longer produces either testosterone or estrogen.  She alleges that the Ontario Cycling Association and Cycling Canada Cyclisme gender verification and anti-doping rules discriminate against her on grounds of sex, contrary to the Canadian Human Rights Code.  The rules in question are based on the Union Cycliste Internationale (UCI) directives which are, in turn, based on IOC policies.  Worley claims that these policies have damaged not only her ability to continue taking part in competitive cycling, but also her health. 

Interestingly, Worley effectively bypassed international sport's usual dispute-settlement procedures by bringing her claim through the mainstream human rights judicial instances.  After the preliminary issue of whether the respondents received effective legal notice, a further dealy was caused when the IOC requested that the Tribunal defer consideration of Worley’s application pending the completion of a judicial review application commenced by the IOC.  The IOC also argued  that the Human Rights Tribunal of Ontario was not competent to hear the case, since it concerns sporting rules.  Likewise, the UCI objected to the Tribunal’s ability to adjudicate and argued that the UCI Arbitral Board and/or the Canadian Center for Ethics in Sport are the competent authorities to address the allegations contained in Worley’s application. 

Next Steps

Importantly, the court hearing the preliminary proceedings in the Worley application held that it is established law that parties cannot contract out of the Canadian Human Rights Code’s protections.  Therefore, the court rejected the proposition that the Human Rights Tribunal lacked jurisdiction purely because there are alternate mechanisms to which Worley could have, but did not, file a claim.  As such, the Worley litigation is extremely interesting as it will be a rare instance of the sheltered world of international sporting organisations being subjected to the full rigours of human rights principles.

It will be very interesting to follow how this claim is dealt with by the Canadian courts, and received by the international sporting community generally, in the months and years to come.  Worley herself has pursued this campaign for over a decade and, given the publicity garnered by the latest steps in her litigation, it now appears to have the potential to inspire other athletes to avail of human rights avenues to open up sports-based disputes to courts of law rather than courts of arbitration.  From the IOC’s perspective, it is clear that it has a legitimate interest in acting to preserve fair competition but this agenda cannot be pursued irrespective of the repercussions.  The most recent changes to its Transgender Guidelines are expressly stated to have been introduced in recognition of how requiring surgical anatomical changes as a pre-condition to participation may be inconsistent with “notions of human rights”.

If nothing else, the new IOC Transgender Guidelines proves that international sport does not operate in a vacuum and is capable, to some extent at least, of reflecting social progress.  However, it remains to be seen whether the most visible sporting governance body is prepared to play a true leadership role in utilising all the benefits of sports in helping to change perceptions of transgender and intersex athletes.  In that sense, the Kirsten Worley litigation represents a crystallisation of a struggle to apply human rights principles in a new area and, as such, will be worthy of our attention going forward.

Introduction

A remarkable aspect of the run-up to the 2016 Rio Olympic Games was the stream of negative media reports portraying broad-scale public mistrust in sport, with the most prominent topic being the doping scandals in athletics and questions surrounding the participation of Russia.  

A different controversy, but one also directed at the credibility of sports, has exposed a few female Olympians to repeated, and at times rather intrusive, media scrutiny. In June 2016, it was reported that Indian track-and-field athlete Dutee Chand had qualified for the Rio Olympic Games by breaking the national record, thus to become the first Indian athlete to run the 100m at the Olympics since 1980. The attention that Dutee Chand’s qualification attracted within international media, however, was not related only to her outstanding results. It came as part of a medical, ethical and legal controversy that has existed for many years relating to ‘policing’ the male versus female divide in sports. Another athlete who has found herself in the midst of this controversy is South African runner Semenya Caster, whose participation in the Olympics has been the object of much conjecture.

The divide between male and female athletes forms the core of most sports’ competition rules, including athletics. The justification for this basic divide has rarely been questioned as such, but has been a matter for debate when it comes to handling atypical situations on both sides of the ‘dividing line’ ­ such as ‘transgender’ or ‘intersex’ athletes. A category of athletes that has, especially, been viewed as a challenge to the divide is composed of female athletes affected by ‘hyperandrogenism’, a health condition that results in naturally elevated androgen levels, including testosterone levels.

On 24 July 2015, a CAS panel rendered a decision involving Dutee Chand (“Dutee Chand” or “the Athlete”) that has fuelled the ongoing debate about the policies regulating hyperandrogenism in sport. Much has been reported in the media about the case: controversial issues include whether the CAS was the appropriate forum to assess these questions; whether the decision was appropriate, both on the merits and on the procedure; and what the consequences of the CAS award would be, for the parties, for athletics and for the sporting community at large.

Much like the current crisis surrounding doping in sports, the public attention on women with (proven or suspected) hyperandrogenism is driven by a concern that an athlete’s physiology – natural or artificially induced ­ could distort competition, destroying the ‘level playing field’ that supports the Olympic ideal. Both topics are also often brought back to the goal of protecting an athlete’s health. Parallels are further found in the strong reactions both topics evoke, and the steps taken by the regulating authorities to convince the public that everything in their power is being done to preserve a level playing field.

A less obvious but equally important point of comparison can be found in the issues both topics raise concerning the legal validity of decisions made by sports organizations, especially in a science-related context. This blog focuses on those more ‘legal’ aspects, through the prism of the decision of the CAS in the Dutee Chand matter and its legal implications. After touching briefly on the background of the case, we will comment on two aspects of the Chand award with respect to challenges in regulating hyperandrogenism in sport within the confines of the law: First from the viewpoint of a CAS panel called upon to evaluate the validity of a set of regulations, and second from the viewpoint of the sports organizations seeking to both adequately protect fairness in sport and to provide a legally valid (and effective) regulatory solution.[1]

Background of the Case

In 2014, Dutee Chand, an internationally successful, young track-and-field athlete, was provisionally suspended from participation in any athletic events by the Athletics Federation of India (the “AFI”),[2] as a result of a series of medical examinations that suggested her “male hormone” levels were elevated.[3] Dutee Chand filed an appeal against this decision to the CAS, naming both the AFI and the IAAF as respondents. She asked the CAS panel to (i) declare the Hyperandrogenism Regulations invalid, and (ii) overturn the AFI’s decision and clear her to compete. The second request for relief, however, was dropped during the course of the proceeding, thus the award addressed only the issue of the Regulation’s validity.

The IAAF Regulations Governing Eligibility of Females with Hyperandrogenism to Compete in Women’s Competition (“Hyperandrogenism Regulations” or “the Regulations”) govern the eligibility of female athletes with a condition known as ‘hyperandrogenism’ to participate in the female category of athletic events. Schematically, the Regulations provide that in order to be eligible to participate in the female category, a woman must have androgen levels below the “normal male range,” which is defined as testosterone levels falling below a threshold of 10 nmol/L.[4] An athlete with testosterone levels reported above this threshold may still be allowed to compete if she establishes, by a balance of probabilities, that she “derives no competitive advantage from having androgen levels in the normal male range”.[5] Cases of suspected hyperandrogenism may be investigated according to three levels of medical assessment, potentially including tests targeting physical, laboratory, genetic, imaging, and psychological assessments. Should an athlete be eventually diagnosed with hyperandrogenism, the stakes are high: in order to return to competition, athletes need to undergo medical treatment to reduce their testosterone levels below the ‘admissible’ threshold.

Dutee Chand challenged the Regulations’ validity on several grounds, which the CAS panel considered after addressing the parties’ respective burdens and standards of proof in an initial section. The grounds examined were unlawful discrimination, lack of scientific validity, breach of proportionality, and conflict with the World Anti-Doping Code (“WADC”).

Challenges CAS panels face in assessing the validity of sports regulations

The Chand award formidably illustrates the challenges an arbitration panel faces when asked to reach a conclusion on the ‘legal validity’ of a set of sports regulations, especially when such assessment implies delving into complex scientific issues. Each of these challenges can provide valuable ‘lessons learned’ for future CAS panels confronted with comparable issues.

Reconciling the ‘abstract’ and ‘concrete’ facets of the dispute

Ostensibly, the object of the CAS proceedings was for Dutee Chand to be cleared to resume competing as a female athlete, in other words, for the decision rendered against her by the AFI to be set aside[6]. But this ‘concrete’ request for relief was dropped at the hearing, leaving the panel with only the ‘abstract’ question of the Regulation’s validity to consider. It appears that the CAS panel was asked between the lines to render an informal advisory opinion on the legitimacy of the current approach to hyperandrogenism in sport; the formal advisory opinion is an instrument no longer available under the CAS Code.[7]

This left the CAS panel in an uncomfortable position: having to decide on abstract legal questions without the benefit of a concrete set of facts to rely upon. Symptomatically, the background presented in the award regarding the Athlete’s actual situation is tenuous. The award does not even discuss whether Dutee Chand’s testosterone levels actually exceeded the 10nmol/L threshold set in the Hyperandrogenism Regulations[8]. The CAS panel simply conducted its entire assessment under the - unverified - assumption of her being genuinely an athlete with hyperandrogenism within the meaning of the Regulations.

Moreover, real questions of defence strategy relevant to counsel appearing before CAS can be raised here: had Dutee Chand not waived her request for relief directed against the AFI decision, the CAS panel would have been forced to render a final award on her case and could not have left her in the legal limbo in which she is now (see below, on the rendering of an interim rather than a final award).

The CAS has often – explicitly or through the decision of its panels ­shown ambition to act as a harmonising body, an ‘international’ or ‘supreme’ court of sport.[9] From a perspective of sports policy, that may be – depending on the opinion – a desirable objective, or an illegitimate attempt for sports governing bodies to shield their regulations from the judicial review of state courts. From a strictly legal perspective, it is questionable whether CAS panels have at their disposal the means to fulfil this ambition. CAS panels are arbitration tribunals in arbitral proceedings conducted under Swiss arbitration law. As such, they only have the power to rule on a dispute brought before them by two – or more – specific parties, and they can only render decisions on requests for relief that a party has submitted to them, within the framework of the facts put forward by the parties. Approaches such as the one taken in the Chand award should not be encouraged, especially in this odd combination in which a CAS panel would accept to rule on abstract requests for relief that are not directly decisive to the outcome of the dispute.

Allocating the burden of proof to prove or disprove the Regulation’s validity

For reasons that are not readily apparent from the award, the CAS panel separated its assessment of the Regulations’ scientific basis into two limbs: i.) one referred to as an assessment of the ‘scientific validity’ of the Regulations, for which Dutee Chand was said to have accepted the burden of proof, and ii.) one referred to as a justification for the prima facie discrimination and considered part of the proportionality assessment, for which the IAAF was assigned the burden of proof[10]. For both limbs, the CAS panel ended up holding that the party bearing the burden of proof failed to discharge its burden, due to lack of sufficient scientific evidence.

The reasoning of the CAS panels in the award makes it rather obvious that the two limbs are conceptually one and the same: Both assess the question of whether the infringement upon female athletes’ rights entailed by the Regulations could be justified by a sufficiently strong scientific basis. Assigning the burden with respect to the general ‘scientific validity’ to Dutee Chand (i.e. the use of testosterone as a valid marker for purposes of the Regulations) and the burden with respect to another aspect of ‘scientific validity’ (i.e. the threshold set in the Regulations for that marker) to the IAAF (via the proportionality test), as the panel did, created an artificial separation in the legal analysis, by dressing the same issue in two different hats.

From the viewpoint of legal technique, this separation appears questionable and unnecessarily complicated. The assumption, from a viewpoint of judicial policy, is that the separation provided the arbitrators with an argument to both support the general thinking underpinning the Regulations (i.e. the use of testosterone levels as a marker) by considering that it was not without scientific basis, while at the same time finding the Regulations lacked sufficient strength in their modalities (i.e. the extent of the advantage conferred to hyperandrogenic athletes by their testosterone levels) to be upheld.

Differentiating between fact-finding and legal appreciation

Whether sports regulations have a sufficiently strong basis in science does not pertain to the fact-finding process, but to the CAS panel’s appreciation of the legal validity ­ or justification (including proportionality) ­ of those regulations. In this particular set-up, the question of ‘scientific validity’ is thus not strictly speaking one related to the burden of proof, as the Chand award would imply, but reflects which party suffers consequences if a CAS panel is not able to make sense of the scientific state-of-knowledge. The prospect of suffering adverse consequences indirectly provides an incentive for parties to present studies and expert opinions in support of their position, but does not qualify as a burden of proof stricto sensu, which only applies to issues of fact[11].

Nevertheless, the outcome of the CAS panel’s reasoning in the Chand matter appears justified: To the extent that the Hyperandrogenism Regulations represent an infringement on certain athletes’ rights (or, as the award considered it, in cases of discrimination), such infringement or discrimination has to be justified to be considered valid. In the case of the Hyperandrogenism Regulations, the alleged justification was based on the scientific basis behind the mechanics of the regulations. Thus, if no such basis could be shown, the CAS panel was bound to consider the Hyperandrogenism Regulations invalid. The CAS panel, in the particular matter, reached the same outcome by assigning the burden of proof on the issue it ultimately declared decisive to the IAAF, i.e. whether the manner in which testosterone was used as marker in the Regulations (especially the threshold value) could claim a sufficiently solid scientific basis.

Accounting for the role of scientific uncertainty

A truly important message to retain from the CAS award on scientific validity is the crucial role that ‘scientific uncertainty’ bears for the legal rule-making or adjudicative process. ‘Scientific uncertainty’ here refers to situations in which no consensus can be found within the scientific community, in which various expert positions coexist, or in which experts agree that the state-of-knowledge does not allow for a definitive answer. In all cases, the science is ‘unsettled’ in a manner that makes it impossible for the legal actors to extract a clear-cut finding that would suit their purposes. By nature, situations of ‘scientific uncertainty’ are the most likely to lead to legal disputes. CAS panels are frequently confronted with this constellation in doping matters or other science-related disputes brought before them.

The result of the panel’s assessment of the scientific foundations for the Regulations – whether desirable or not, justified or not – was hence utterly predictable. It was pre-determined from the moment the CAS panel decided that the IAAF would have the burden of proof on the very issue that would ultimately prove decisive for the outcome of a dispute. Allocating the burden of proof on a scientific issue amounts to assigning to one party (or one category of party) the risk of scientific uncertainty. Since disputed scientific issues are likely to result in the panel being unable to make up its mind one way or another, thus having to fall back on the burden of proof, the party that carries this risk of scientific uncertainty is almost certain to lose its case.

(Avoiding) reaching a legal conclusion on a highly sensitive issue

At the end of their analysis, the CAS arbitrators reached the conclusion that the IAAF had not discharged its burden of proof and that they were therefore unable to uphold the validity of the Hyperandrogenism Regulations based on the evidence before them[12]. The logical (and legal) consequence would have been for the panel to render a final award in accordance with these conclusions and grant the athlete’s request for relief. However, the panel took a different – and unusual ­ option, of issuing a decision they referred to as “interim award” instead.

One fails to see the rationale for such a decision. The approach may well be pragmatic, since it relieved (at least temporarily) the CAS panel of the need to make a final binding decision on a complex social and political issue, and allowed Dutee Chand to resume competition while at the same time providing a (provisional) framework for international athletic competitions with respect to participation of hyperandrogenic athletes.[13] However, issuing an “interim award” in this matter is not justifiable from the perspective of arbitration law. This is all the more true given that none of the parties appears to have requested the issuing of a preliminary decision in the proceedings, nor even to have contemplated this type of outcome. Its legitimacy under the CAS Code – which is conceived to guarantee an efficient procedural framework on CAS proceedings – is equally questionable. Moreover, the choice of issuing an ‘interim award’ has far-reaching legal and practical consequences for the dispute that further call into doubt the nature of Dutee Chand’s ‘victory’, including the following:

• The CAS proceeding number ‘CAS 2014/A/3759’ is not closed. The CAS panel remains formally constituted for the remainder of the two-year period assigned to the IAAF. If the IAAF does not submit further evidence, the CAS panels will need to make a final award taking note of such failure and drawing the consequences thereof, which could then be appealed before the Swiss Supreme Court;

• The “interim award” can only be appealed to the Swiss Supreme Court on very restrictive grounds under the Swiss Private International Law Act (Article 190, para. 3). Only an appeal for grounds of irregular composition of the tribunal or lack of jurisdiction could be filed, none of which would seem of relevance to the present matter. The other grounds for challenging an arbitral award – in particular the right to be heard or public policy – cannot be raised in an appeal against an interim award. This de facto bars the parties from appealing the award before the elapse of the two-year period; and

• The award does not acquire a res iudicata effect and cannot be enforced, though it binds the panel itself to its own determinations (as opposed to a mere procedural order).[14] Its effect for other athletes potentially concerned by decisions made under national regulations implemented to reflect the Hyperandrogenism Regulations is thus uncertain. In theory, but for the panel’s expectations that the IAAF will act based on the sport hierarchy, a national federation that was not a party to the dispute could still make a decision against an athlete.

While CAS panels may order further evidentiary measures on their own initiative and request a party to adduce further evidence, the CAS Code certainly does not envisage that a party could be given a period of two years to do so. Rendering an interim award in these circumstances could be considered to amount to a denial of justice, i.e. a refusal by the CAS panel to rule on the request for relief properly submitted to it. The time limit granted unilaterally, to one of the parties only, could also be seen as conflicting with equality of the parties.[15] Should the IAAF return with additional evidence during the two-year period, would Dutee Chand also be granted an equivalent time limit to respond to the evidence?

Challenges sports organisations face in navigating the interface between law and science

The debate surrounding the definition of male and female is a complex one, not only in sport but in various domains of society. This means that a sports organisation’s task of making policy decisions that adequately account for these complexities is far from straightforward.

Unlike former policies in sport, the manner in which the IAAF – and other sports federations based on the policy of the IOC – set out to deal with hyperandrogenism as of 2012 does not formally aim at defining an athlete’s sex. Hence, it does not represent a ‘gender or sex testing’ process stricto sensu. Instead, the CAS panel in the Dutee Chand case acknowledged that whether a person is to be considered ‘female’ from the viewpoint of participation in athletics relies on the criterion of whether a person is a female as a matter of law[16]. The Hyperandrogenism Regulations do not – at least not from a legal viewpoint ­ purport to decide whether someone is female or not. Ironically, this shift in approach that was to take away from sports authorities the controversial power to assign a ‘gender’ to an individual for purposes of taking part in its competitions is precisely what has brought those authorities into the dilemma of having to introduce corrective factors in the name of a level playing field.

Indeed, the Regulations seek to police a divide based on an issue of law (whether someone is a female ‘as a matter of law’) through a corrective factor that relies on a biological parameter, which is an issue of fact (the person’s level of testosterone); an approach that is bound to lead to a sense of unfairness in borderline situations. Undoubtedly, one major flaw in the system was that the corrective factor had the effect of excluding athletes from the category into which they fit as a matter of law, without offering them the option to compete in the category in which the corrective factor would place them. The IOC Medical & Scientific Commission statement subsequently issued (see below, in the concluding remarks) encourages a solution whereby legally female athletes who fail to meet the requirements of Hyperandrogenism Regulations would be authorized to compete in the male category. This solution would at least have the merits of removing this blatant inconsistency of the system. However, one can legitimately wonder if, de facto, it would not have the same effect of excluding hyperandrogenic women from elite competition entirely.

To entirely reframe the approach to sex categories in sport – without the mixture of legal and biological corrective factors chosen in the Hyperandrogenism Regulations – would suppose one of the following:

1. redefining the definition of ‘sex’ for purposes of sports categories based only on biological criteria, i.e. the level of testosterone or other biological factors deemed appropriate,
2. abandoning the use of corrective factors, and referring to an individual’s sex exclusively as a matter of law, or
3. abandoning any form of sports category related to sex and/or gender altogether.

It seems predictable that any of these options would imply some sort of compromise and entail new legal challenges. In particular, it is important to note that even if one should simply abandon any regulation on hyperandrogenism (or, more generally, on intersex matters), the question of how to legally define a ‘female’ would remain. In particular, the CAS panel in the Chand matter noted that whether someone is a male or female “is a matter of law”[17]. This immediately raises a follow-up question, namely: “what law?”. And, of equal importance, how does the applicable law approach this question? Options could range from self-identification to reliance on a complex set of scientific criteria, with each solution bringing its own challenges. Relying exclusively, as has been suggested[18], on the manner in which a person was raised and/or perceives him-/herself within society might prove difficult to crystallize into a firm legal criterion.

Even as sports regulations strives towards fairness and removing barriers to ‘pure’ competition, it must be recognized that the best that sports organizations can aim for in this context is to strike a reasonable balance between seeking a level playing field and celebrating natural advantages. On a deeper level, it also supposes a discussion as to how lawyers can and/or may make decisions that will profoundly affect individuals when science appears unable to provide the data needed to make sound legal choices.

Concluding remarks

Perhaps the most striking aspect of the Chand matter ­ as revealed by its aftermath ­ is the limited impact a CAS award addressing abstract legal issues can exert in practice.

The Chand award did not end the hyperandrogenism debate. In November 2015 – over four months after the Chand award was published ­ the IOC Medical & Scientific Commission, after holding a Consensus Meeting on Sex Reassignment and Hyperandrogenism, reaffirmed its position by insisting on the need to have rules in place “for the protection of women in sport and the promotion of the principles of fair competition”. The statement also encourages the IAAF, with support of other sports organizations, “to revert to CAS with arguments and evidence to support the reinstatement of its hyperandrogenism rules”. The IOC’s reaction to the interim award rendered shows that little progress was made in resolving the dispute over the validity of the Hyperandrogenism Regulations. As an only sign of a shift in its position, the statement recommends that “to avoid discrimination, if not eligible for female competition the Athlete should be eligible to compete in male competition”.[19] The new IOC position, which in effect represents a step towards considering the testosterone threshold as the only decisive criterion for determining the boundary between male and female athletes, immediately triggered critical reactions – both as to the modalities of its adoption and as to its contents – on part of circles close to Dutee Chand’s defence and opposed to regulations on hyperandrogenism.

Thus, the CAS award does not seem to have altered either camp’s position. This may be in part a side effect of the panel’s decision to opt for an interim award, but also demonstrates more generally the limitations on the power of law, regulatory bodies and judicial authorities to resolve disputes of such scientific and ethical dimension.

[1] For a more detailed analysis of the Chand award, see M Viret and E Wisnosky, Controlling “Femaleness” in Sports: Regulatory challenges at the intersection of health, performance and identity, in A Duval and A Rigozzi, eds., Yearbook of International Sports Arbitration, to be published.

[2] CAS 2014/A/3759, Dutee Chand v. AFI & IAAF, 24 July 2015.at [27]­[28]. As reported in the award, the text of the Decision Letter read in relevant part: “Based on your medical reports received from Sports Authority of India and a copy of the same has already been handed over to you by SAI in person, you are hereby provisionally stopped from participation in any Competition in athletics with immediate effect.

To be eligible for participation, you are further advised to follow the annexed IAAF guidelines”. [27]. Ms. Chand stated that the letter incorrectly enclosed the IAAF Sex Reassignment Regulations rather than the Hyperandrogenism Regulations [28].

[4] Hyperandrogenism Regulations, art. 6.5(i).

[5] Hyperandrogenism Regulations, art. 6.5(ii).

[6] Dutee Chand initially submitted two requests for relief, namely that a.) “[T]he Hyperandrogenism Regulation[s] be declared invalid and void; and, b.)[T]he Decision Letter [note: rendered by the AFI against Ms. Chand] be set aside and she be declared eligible to compete (Chand award at [104]).

[7] CAS’ consultation proceedings were abrogated in the 2012 review of the CAS Code.

[8] Chand award at [36]

[9] “The ‘Digest of CAS Awards 1986-1998’ recorded the emergence of a lex sportiva through the judicial decisions of the CAS. It is true that one of the interests of this court is to develop a jurisprudence that can be used as a reference by all the actors of world sport, thereby encouraging the harmonisation of the judicial rules and principles applied within the sports world.” (CAS Digest II, Reeb, p. xxix).

[10] A detailed analysis of the CAS panel’s reasoning can be found in Viret and Wisnosky 2016.

[11] For more details, see Viret and Wisnosky 2016, on the lack of clear distinction between issues of fact (which parties can agree upon) and issues of law, such as the burden and standard of proof and scientific validity (which is for a hearing panel to decide) in the Chand award.

[12] Chand award at [536].

[13] J Paulsson, Assessing the Usefulness and Legitimacy of CAS, SchiedsVZ 2015, pp. 263-269, p. 269.

[14] G Kaufmann-Kohler and A Rigozzi, International Arbitration: Law and Practice in Switzerland, Oxford University Press, Oxford 2015, paras 7.105-7.106.

[15] See Chand award at [442]. In particular, the Athlete accepted the burden of proof with respect to the “issue of scientific basis” of the Hyperandrogenism Regulations, a burden that the CAS panel considered had equally not been discharged.

[16] Chand award at [510]

[17] Chand award at [510].

[18] See e.g. M Genel, J L Simpson and A de la Chapelle, The Olympic Games and Athletic Sex Assignment, Journal of the American Medical Association, Published online August 04, 2016.

[19] IOC (2015) IOC Consensus Meeting on Sex Reassignment and Hyperandrogenism November 2015

This is a follow-up contribution to my previous blog on human rights implications of the Olympic Games published last week. Together with highlighting some of the most serious Olympic Games-related human rights abuses, the first part has outlined the key elements of the Host City Contract ('HCC') as one of the main legal instruments regulating the execution of the Olympic Games. It has also indicated that, in February 2017, the International Olympic Committee ('IOC') revised the 2024 HCC to include, inter alia, explicit human rights obligations. Without questioning the potential significance of inserting human rights obligations to the 2024 HCC, this second part will refer to a number of outstanding issues requiring clarification in order to ensure that these newly-added human rights obligations are translated from paper to actual practice.

Implementation of Agenda 2020 into the HCC 

In December 2014, the IOC Session unanimously approved Olympic Agenda 2020 ('Agenda 2020'), a set of 40 recommendations intended to protect the uniqueness of the Games and strengthen Olympic values in society. Agenda 2020 makes five specific recommendations with respect to the HCC which should have been taken into account as of the 2022 HCC concluded between the IOC on the one hand and the City of Beijing and the Chinese Olympic Committee on the other hand.[1]

Most importantly, Agenda 2020 encourages the IOC to include in the HCC clauses reflecting the prohibition of discrimination as well as the protection of environmental and labour-related rights.[2] Fundamental Principle 6 of the Olympic Charter, now also reflected in Article 13.2. (a) of the 2024 HCC, reads as follows: ''The enjoyment of the rights and freedoms set forth in this Olympic Charter shall be secured without 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.'' Non-discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation had been absent from the Olympic Charter prior to Agenda 2020. As far as environmental and labour-related matters are concerned, the Host City, the Host National Olympic Committee ('Host NOC') and the Organising Committee of the Olympic Games ('OCOG') are obliged under the 2024 HCC to ''ensure that their activities in relation to the organisation of the Olympic Games comply with any international agreements, laws and regulations applicable in the Host Country, with regard to planning, construction, protection of the environment, health and safety, labour and working conditions and cultural heritage''.[3] For the first time, the 2024 HCC also makes a specific reference to the United Nations' Sustainable Development Goals.[4]

In addition to promoting non-discrimination, environmental protection and labour-related rights, Agenda 2020 also fosters transparency by demanding the IOC to: (i) make the HCC public; (ii) disclose details of the IOC's financial contribution to the OCOG; and (iii) provide the HCC at the outset of a bidding procedure.[5] Moreover, Agenda 2020 suggests that entities other than the Host City and the Host NOC may become signatories to the HCC in line with the local context.[6]

What exactly has been added to the 2024 HCC?

As indicated above, the prohibition of discrimination,[7] and to a certain extent also the protection of labour-related rights,[8] appeared for the first time in the 2022 HCC, reflecting the recommendations laid down in Agenda 2020.[9] Moving to the 2024 HCC, the core human rights provision inserted therein demands that the Host City, the Host NOC and the OCOG in their activities related to the execution of the Games ''protect and respect human rights and ensure any violation of human rights is remedied in a manner consistent with international agreements, laws and regulations applicable in the Host Country and in a manner consistent with all internationally-recognized human rights standards and principles, including the United Nations Guiding Principles on Business and Human Rights, applicable in the Host Country''.[10] Of particular importance is the explicit reference to the United Nations Guiding Principles on Business and Human Rights ('UN Guiding Principles'), a non-binding legal framework intended to minimize adverse human rights impacts triggered by business activities. The UN Guiding Principles are based on three pillars, namely (i) the State duty to protect human rights; (ii) the corporate responsibility to respect human rights; and (iii) access to remedy.

The following sections will address some of the issues that remain outstanding even after the insertion of human rights obligations to the 2024 HCC.

No direct involvement of the Host Country

First and foremost, the Host Country itself is not directly obliged to protect and respect human rights under the 2024 HCC. Instead, the provision discussed above imposes human rights obligations on the Host City, the Host NOC and the OCOG. It is critical to note that the relevant provision requires the Host City, the Host NOC and the OCOG not only to respect, but also to protect human rights, suggesting that these entities shall take positive actions to facilitate the enjoyment of human rights. This begs the question whether the Host City, the Host NOC and the OCOG have the political, legal and financial capacity to effectively take such positive actions.

For instance, the Host City and the OCOG would be expected to include human rights obligations in their contracts with suppliers of public infrastructure and sporting facilities. However, even if they do so under the threat of contract's termination and further sanctions, it may not suffice to prevent Olympic Games-related human rights abuses from occurring. Unlike the Host Country Authorities, the Host City, the Host NOC and the OCOG do not possess the necessary powers to monitor and adjudicate the human rights compliance of their sub-contractors. Furthermore, much of the infrastructure build-up might be conducted by the Host Country directly and would therefore evade the scope of application of the HCC.

Who determines when human rights obligations are violated? 

In practice, human rights obligations arising out of a contractual relationship are not easy to deal with, because it might be rather difficult to decide whether they have been observed or not. For this reason, it is essential to entrust an independent body with competence to decide whether the Host City, the Host NOC or the OCOG have complied with their human rights obligations under the HCC. Unfortunately, the 2024 HCC in its current form does not stipulate who is responsible for adopting a decision determining that the Host City, the Host NOC and the OCOG are in breach of their human rights obligations. 

It follows that the IOC itself (via the Coordination or Legal Affairs Commission) may take on this inquisitorial and quasi-judicial role. However, this would lead a very interested party to monitor and adjudicate the human rights compliance of the Host City, the Host NOC and the OCOG. The potential for a conflict of interests is evident, as the IOC could face negative financial and other consequences if it decides to withdraw the Games from the Host City, the Host NOC and the OCOG. In this configuration, the incentives will therefore be strongly opposed to finding for a lack of compliance.

Instead, we could imagine a separate, truly independent body consisting of NGO members, athletes' representatives, union representatives, CAS arbitrators and independent experts (such as academics or judges at the European Court of Human Rights). This body could have an investigative and an adjudicative chamber (not unlike the FIFA Independent Ethics Committee), ensuring a separation between monitoring and adjudicating. Should the Host City, the Host NOC or the OCOG consider sanctions imposed under such a mechanism arbitrary, they might still activate the CAS arbitration clause[11] and challenge the validity of these sanctions before the CAS.

Will the sanctions contemplated by the HCC be effective? 

As explained in the first part of this blog, the most severe sanction contemplated by the HCC in the event of non-compliance is the withdrawal of the Games from the Host City, the Host NOC and the OCOG with prior notice.[12] It should be emphasized, however, that a removal of the Games would result in both financial and reputational harm being incurred by the IOC.[13] Therefore, it is arguable whether the IOC would in practice be ready to withdraw the Games. In fact, the IOC has withdrawn the Games so far only due to the outbreak of the First and Second World War, when the Games were cancelled altogether.[14] Being aware of the IOC's unwillingness to withdraw the Games, the Host City, the Host NOC and the OCOG may not perceive the threat of losing the Games as credible. Consequently, these entities may not feel obliged to adhere to their human rights obligations under the HCC.

With regard to other enforcement measures, the IOC is entitled, inter alia, to retain all amounts held in the General Retention Fund[15] or withhold any payment due, or grant to be made to the OCOG pursuant to the HCC.[16] By not providing the relevant financial contribution to the OCOG, the IOC would risk delays in construction and other preparatory works – something the IOC certainly wants to avoid. Eventually, these sanctions might prove to be as inefficient as the threat of losing the Games, given that the IOC may turn a blind eye to violations of the HCC in order to safeguard its financial and other interests. Besides financial considerations, the IOC's reluctance to impose sanctions on the Host City, the Host NOC and the OCOG follows from the fact that the IOC would thereby implicitly acknowledge its mistaken decision to award the Games to a particular Host City in the first place.

Conclusion

This blog has identified three specific concerns potentially relativizing the impact of the human rights obligations recently added to the 2024 HCC. First, the Host City, the Host NOC and the OCOG as the formal addresses of these obligations may not have the capacity to ensure the human rights compliance of their sub-contractors. Second, the 2024 HCC in its current form lacks clarity as to when the Host City, the Host NOC and the OCOG are in breach of their human rights obligations and who is responsible for adopting a decision to that effect. Third, being aware of the IOC's unwillingness to withdraw the Games due to financial and other interests involved, it is likely that the Host City, the Host NOC and the OCOG might refuse to abide by their human rights obligations under the HCC. This is not to say, however, that introducing human rights requirements is not an important step forward, but as always with this type of decisions the devil will be in the implementation.

[1]    The 2022 HCC was executed in Kuala Lumpur on 31 July 2015.

[2]    Agenda 2020; Recommendation 1.5.

[3]    2024 Host City Contract – Principles; Article 15.2. (b).

[4]    Ibid., Article 15.1.

[5]    Agenda 2020; Recommendations 1.6., 1.7., 1.10.

[6]    Ibid., Recommendation 1.9.

[7]    2022 Host City Contract; Preamble (L.).

[8]    Ibid., Article 21.

[9]    Agenda 2020; Recommendation 1.5.

[10]   2024 Host City Contract – Principles; Article 13.2. (b).

[11]   Ibid., Article 51.2.

[12]   Ibid., Articles 38.2., 38.3.

[13]   R. Gauthier, The International Olympic Committee, Law and Accountability, Routledge, 2017, at 144-145.

[14]   Ibid., at 144.

[15]   According to Article 8.2. (d) of the 2024 HCC, the General Retention Fund represents a percentage (5 %) of ''any sums of money or equivalent value-in-kind payable to the OCOG in relation to the International Programme''. It is maintained and controlled by the IOC.

[16]   2024 Host City Contract – Principles; Article 36.2. (a), (b).

Introduction

On 13 September 2017, more than 40,000 people witnessed the successful debut of the football club RasenBallsport Leipzig (RB Leipzig) in the UEFA Champions League (UCL) against AS Monaco. In the eyes of many supporters of the German club, the mere fact of being able to participate in the UEFA's flagship club competition was probably more important than the result of the game itself. This is because, on the pitch, RB Leipzig secured their place in the 2017/18 UCL group stage already on 6 May 2017 after an away win against Hertha Berlin. However, it was not until 16 June 2017 that the UEFA Club Financial Control Body (CFCB) officially allowed RB Leipzig to participate in the 2017/18 UCL alongside its sister club, Austrian giants FC Red Bull Salzburg (RB Salzburg).[1] As is well known, both clubs have (had) ownership links to the beverage company Red Bull GmbH (Red Bull), and therefore it came as no surprise that the idea of two commonly owned clubs participating in the same UCL season raised concerns with respect to the competition's integrity.

The phenomenon of multi-club ownership is nothing new in the world of football. As will be seen below, the English company ENIC plc. (ENIC)[2] established itself as a pioneer in this type of business activity, having acquired in the late 1990s, through subsidiaries, controlling interests in several European clubs, including SK Slavia Prague in the Czech Republic (Slavia), AEK Football Club in Greece (AEK) or Vicenza Calcio in Italy (Vicenza). Apart from ENIC and Red Bull, a more recent example of a global corporation investing in multiple football clubs worldwide is the City Football Group owned by Sheikh Mansour bin Zayed Al Nahyan. In August 2017, the City Football Group acquired 44.3% stake in Girona FC, a Spanish club that had just been promoted to La Liga for the first time in their history, thereby adding a sixth club to its portfolio consisting of Manchester City, New York City, Melbourne City, Yokohama Marinos[3] (Japan) and Club Atlético Torque (Uruguay).[4] Private individuals may also become owners of two or more football clubs, the most prominent examples being Giampaolo Pozzo and his son Gino who are in possession of the Italy's second oldest club Udinese Calcio and the English top-flight club Watford FC respectively,[5] or Roland Duchâtelet, a Belgian millionaire whose dubious management of his five clubs, namely Charlton Athletic (England), Carl Zeiss Jena (Germany), AD Alcorcón (Spain), Sint-Truiden (Belgium) and Újpest FC (Hungary), has been met with considerable opposition. Moreover, clubs themselves have acquired stakes in other clubs, including, for instance, Atlético Madrid's investment in RC Lens (France) and Club Atlético de San Luis (Mexico), or AS Monaco's recent takeover of the Belgian second-division club Cercle Brugge.

Leaving commercial and marketing aspects aside, the investment in multiple football clubs is often driven by the vision of recruiting talented players at low cost, preferably in Latin American or African countries, and subsequently facilitating their development in smaller European clubs to prepare them for the level required at the lead club. Hence, should Manchester City discover in Uruguay a 'new Luis Suárez', it will not take much effort (and money) to convince such a player to join the academy of Club Atlético Torque, especially if he is promised further development at language-barrier-free Girona and sees himself wearing the Citizens' sky blue shirt one day. Along these lines, it could well be argued that the phenomenon of multi-club ownership in fact creates a supply chain for talent.

For reasons suggested above, qualification for a UEFA club competition is normally not the primary objective of clubs like Girona, which find themselves somewhere in the middle of this supply chain. This at least partially explains why, to the best of my knowledge, only twice the prospect of two or more commonly owned clubs participating in the same UEFA club competition became so imminent that it required UEFA's direct intervention. The first intervention dates back to May 1998 when the UEFA Executive Committee adopted a landmark rule entitled 'Integrity of the UEFA Club Competitions: Independence of the Clubs' (Original Rule) in response to Slavia and AEK, both under ENIC's control, having qualified for the 1998/99 UEFA Cup. The Red Bull case, for its part, revolved around the interpretation of 'decisive influence in the decision-making of a club', a concept that could not be found in the Original Rule.

Against this background, this two-part blog will focus on the UEFA rule(s) aimed at ensuring the integrity of its club competitions. The first part will take a closer look at how the Court of Arbitration for Sport (CAS) and the European Commission (Commission) dealt with ENIC's complaints alleging that the Original Rule was incompatible, inter alia, with EU competition law. The second part will then examine the relevant rule as it is currently enshrined in Article 5 of the UCL Regulations 2015-18 Cycle, 2017/18 Season (Current Rule) and describe how the CFCB Adjudicatory Chamber interpreted the aforementioned concept of decisive influence[6] in the Red Bull case. Finally, in light of the conclusions reached by the CFCB Adjudicatory Chamber, the second part of this two-part blog will discuss whether any modification of the Current Rule is desirable.

The ENIC saga: How the Original Rule survived EU competition law scrutiny

Background

It has already been noted that the adoption of the Original Rule was prompted, first and foremost, by the fact that ENIC-controlled Slavia and AEK qualified on sporting merit for the 1998/99 UEFA Cup. However, what needs to be added is that the initial impulse came a season before, when Slavia, AEK and Vicenza all reached the quarter-final of the UEFA Cup Winners' Cup. Although UEFA was fortunate that time as the clubs were not drawn to play against each other and only Vicenza advanced to the semi-final, it learnt its lesson and as a result of this situation adopted robust rules aimed at ensuring the integrity of its club competitions.

The Original Rule

The Original Rule made admission to the UEFA club competitions conditional upon fulfilment of three specific criteria. First, a club participating in a UEFA club competition must have refrained from (i) holding or dealing in the securities or shares; (ii) being a member; (iii) being involved in any capacity whatsoever in the management, administration, and/or sporting performance; and (iv) having any power whatsoever in the management, administration and/or sporting performance of any other club participating in the same UEFA club competition. Second, the Original Rule stipulated that no person could be simultaneously involved in any capacity whatsoever in the management, administration and/or sporting performance of more than one club participating in the same UEFA club competition. Third, an individual or legal entity was prohibited from exercising control over more than one club participating in the same UEFA club competition. The Original Rule further clarified that an individual or legal entity was deemed to have control over a club, and thus the third criterion was not satisfied, where he/she/it (i) held a majority of the shareholders' voting rights; (ii) was authorized to appoint or remove a majority of the members of the administrative, management or supervisory body; or (iii) was a shareholder and single-handedly controlled a majority of the shareholders' voting rights. In principle, under this third criterion, it was permissible for an individual or legal entity to hold up to 49% of the shareholders' voting rights in multiple clubs participating in the same UEFA club competition.

Proceedings before the CAS

It was the third criterion that was applicable to ENIC, a company listed on the London Stock Exchange. Given that both Slavia and AEK were owned as to more than 50% by ENIC, the respective criterion was not satisfied. Consequently, the Committee for the UEFA Club Competitions, a body responsible for monitoring fulfilment of the aforementioned criteria, ruled that only Slavia was eligible to take part in the 1998/99 UEFA Cup on account of its higher club coefficient. Not content with this decision, Slavia and AEK filed a request for arbitration with the CAS on 15 June 1998, challenging the validity of the Original Rule, inter alia, under Articles 81 and 82 of the Treaty Establishing the European Community (TEC) (now Articles 101 and 102 of the Treaty on the Functioning of the European Union (TFEU)). On the same day, the clubs also lodged a request for interim relief which was eventually granted on 16 July 1998.[7] As a result, UEFA was barred from giving effect to the Original Rule for the duration of the arbitration procedure and both Slavia and AEK were given the green light to participate in the 1998/99 UEFA Cup. On 20 August 1999, the CAS rendered its award in which it upheld the validity of the Original Rule and allowed UEFA to apply the rule in question as of the 2000/01 season.

Before embarking on a comprehensive analysis of the compatibility of the Original Rule with EU competition law, the Panel recognized that participation of two or more commonly owned clubs in the same UEFA club competition creates fertile ground for conflicts of interest, and thus ''represents a justified concern for a sports regulator and organizer''.[8] The Panel then confirmed that EU law was applicable to the case before it as the Original Rule could not benefit from any 'sporting exception'.[9] That being clarified, the Panel moved on to examine the relevant market potentially affected by the Original Rule. It defined the relevant product market as the ''market for ownership interests in football clubs capable of taking part in UEFA competitions'' which would include, on the supply side, ''all the owners of European football clubs which can potentially qualify for a UEFA competition'', and, on the demand side, ''any individual or corporation potentially interested in an investment opportunity in a football club which could qualify for a UEFA competition''.[10] The relevant geographic market, for its part, was confined to the territories of national football federations affiliated to UEFA.[11]

Analysis under Article 81 TEC

Article 81 TEC (now Article 101 TFEU) prohibits ''all agreements between undertakings, decisions by associations of undertakings and concerted practices which […] have as their object or effect the prevention, restriction or distortion of competition within the internal market''. While it is evident that UEFA could be classified as an undertaking[12] or an association of undertakings (representing national football federations) within the meaning of Article 81 TEC, it is less clear whether UEFA could also be regarded, through national football federations representing both professional and amateur clubs, as an association of 'club undertakings'. This question is of crucial importance because if UEFA was not to be regarded as an association of 'club undertakings', the Original Rule would not be considered as the product of a horizontal collusion between clubs and, as a result, would fall outside the scope of Article 81 TEC.[13] The role of UEFA in such a case would not go beyond a mere sports regulator.[14] In this context, Advocate General Lenz insisted in the Bosman case that even though national football federations encompass a sheer number of amateur clubs not engaged in economic activities, this does not alter the conclusion that (i) national football federations are to be regarded as associations of undertakings in accordance with Article 81 TEC; and consequently that (ii) UEFA, through these national football federations, is to be regarded as an association of 'club undertakings'.[15] Although not entirely persuaded by the respective argument, the Panel assumed for the purposes of conducting an analysis under Article 81 TEC that the Original Rule represented a decision by an association of 'club undertakings' and, as such, did not fall outside the scope of Article 81 TEC.[16]

The Panel then turned to the question lying at the heart of the dispute, that is, whether the Original Rule had as its object or effect the prevention, restriction or distortion of competition within the internal market. It found that the Original Rule was only designed to ''prevent the conflict of interest inherent in commonly owned clubs taking part in the same competition and to ensure a genuine athletic event with truly uncertain results'', thereby excluding any anti-competitive object of the Original Rule.[17] With respect to the effect of the Original Rule, the Panel asserted that even though the rule in question may have discouraged an owner who had already been in possession of a high-level European club from acquiring controlling interest in another such club, its overall effect was pro-competitive in that it enabled more undertakings to enter the relevant market, and thus stimulated investment in professional football.[18] Moreover, the Panel was concerned that, in the absence of the Original Rule, high-level European clubs would potentially be concentrated in few hands which would, in turn, lead to an increase in prices for ownership interests in those clubs.[19]

Having found that neither the object nor the effect of the Original Rule was anti-competitive, the Panel was further not required to pronounce itself on whether the Original Rule was necessary and proportionate to the legitimate aim pursued. Yet, it held that the Original Rule was ''an essential feature for the organization of a professional football competition and [was] not more extensive than necessary to serve the fundamental goal of preventing conflicts of interest''.[20] In a similar vein, the Panel could not identify any plausible less restrictive alternative to the Original Rule, and therefore it declared that the Original Rule was proportionate to the stated aim of preventing conflicts of interest.[21]

Based on the above considerations, the Panel ultimately concluded that the Original Rule was compatible with Article 81 TEC.       

Analysis under Article 82 TEC 

Article 82 TEC (now Article 102 TFEU) prohibits abusive conduct by companies that have a dominant position on a relevant market. Since UEFA cannot become an owner of a football club, the Panel maintained that it was not present on the relevant market for 'ownership interests in football clubs capable of taking part in UEFA competitions', and for that reason UEFA could not be held to enjoy a dominant position.[22] Accordingly, the Panel concluded that the Original Rule did not violate Article 82 TEC.  

Proceedings before the Commission

In the wake of the CAS award, ENIC's business strategy suffered a blow. However, the English company was not yet ready to give up and lodged a complaint with the Commission on 18 February 2000, again claiming that the Original Rule infringed Articles 81 and 82 TEC.

In its decision, the Commission relied to some extent on the CAS award, adopting the definition of the relevant market or confirming that the Original Rule could not benefit from any 'sporting exception'. As far as the object of the Original Rule was concerned, the Commission articulated that the rule was not intended to distort competition, but rather to ''avoid conflicts of interest that may arise from the fact that more than one club controlled by the same owner […] play in the same competition''.[23] With respect to the Original Rule's effect, the Commission referred to the Wouters case in which the European Court of Justice held that an agreement between undertakings or a decision of an association of undertakings restricting the freedom to act may nevertheless fall outside the scope of Article 81 TEC, provided that its restrictive effects are inherent in the pursuit of a legitimate objective.[24] Applied to the case before it, the Commission ruled that the restrictive effects of the Original Rule were ''inherent in the pursuit of the very existence of credible pan-European football competitions''.[25] Consequently, the Commission found no violation of Article 81 TEC. Turning to Article 82 TEC, the Commission briefly noted that ''if one were to assume that UEFA enjoys a dominant position in whatever market, the fact that UEFA has adopted such a rule does not appear to constitute in itself an abuse of dominant position''.[26]

Conclusion

It is quite intuitive that the aim of preserving the integrity of the UEFA club competitions should outweigh the restriction introduced by the Original Rule which essentially rendered owners of high-level European clubs unable to acquire controlling interests in similar clubs. However, the fact that the Original Rule appeared bullet-proof under EU competition law does not mean that it was entirely without flaws. As will be seen in the second part of this blog, UEFA later decided to make the Original Rule more stringent since it realized that even if an individual or legal entity does not have de jure control over a club, it may still be able to exercise de facto control over such club.

[1]   RB Salzburg were eliminated by HNK Rijeka in the third qualifying round.

[2]   ENIC is currently a majority shareholder of the English top-flight club Tottenham Hotspur.

[3]   Among the clubs listed, Yokohama Marinos is the only club in which the City Football Group holds a minority stake (20%).

[4]   Furthermore, Manchester City have a formal cooperation agreement with Dutch side NAC Breda.

[5]   The Pozzo family also owned Spanish side Granada FC, before selling the club to a Chinese firm in 2016.

[6]   UCL Regulations 2015-18 Cycle, 2017/18 Season, Article 5.01(c)(iv).

[7]   According to the CAS, the fact that UEFA enacted the Original Rule shortly before the start of the 1998/99 season contravened the principles of good faith, procedural fairness and legitimate expectations. See CAS 98/200 AEK Athens and SK Slavia Prague / UEFA, Award of 20 August 1999, p. 5.

[8]   CAS 98/200 AEK Athens and SK Slavia Prague / UEFA, Award of 20 August 1999, para. 48.

[9]   Ibid. para. 83. According to the well-established jurisprudence of the European Court of Justice, ''the practice of sport is subject to [EU] law only in so far as it constitutes an economic activity''. See Case 36/74 Walrave [1974] ECR 1405, Judgment of 12 December 1974, para. 4. See also Case C-415/93 Bosman [1995] ECR I-4921, Judgment of 15 December 1995, para. 73. On the 'sporting exception', see also Richard Parrish and Samuli Miettinen, The Sporting Exception in European Union Law (T.M.C. Asser Press 2008).

[10] AEK Athens and SK Slavia Prague / UEFA (n 8) paras 101-104.

[11] Ibid. para. 108.

[12] According to the European Court of Justice, ''the concept of an undertaking encompasses every entity engaged in an economic activity, regardless of the legal status of the entity and the way in which it is financed''. See Case C-41/90 Höfner [1991] ECR I-1979, Judgment of 23 April 1991, para. 21.

[13] AEK Athens and SK Slavia Prague / UEFA (n 8) para. 88.

[14] Ibid.           

[15] Bosman, Opinion of Advocate General Lenz delivered on 20 September 1995, para. 256.

[16] AEK Athens and SK Slavia Prague / UEFA (n 8) para. 94.

[17] Ibid. para. 113.

[18] Ibid. paras 114-119.

[19] Ibid.

[20] Ibid. para. 136.

[21] Ibid.

[22] Ibid. para. 141. It should be noted, however, that this assertion was later challenged, albeit in the context of FIFA, by the Court of First Instance in the Piau case. The Court held in this case that the fact that FIFA is not itself an economic operator on the market for the services provided by players' agents was ''irrelevant as regards the application of Article 82 TEC, since FIFA is the emanation of the national associations and the clubs, the actual buyers of the services of players' agents''. See Case T-193/02 Piau [2005] ECLI:EU:T:2005:22, Judgment of 26 January 2005, para. 116.

[23] Case COMP/37 806: ENIC / UEFA [2002] Commission, para. 28.

[24] Case C-309/99 Wouters [2002] ECR I-1577, Judgment of 19 February 2002, para. 97.

[25] See Commission decision (n 23) para. 32.

[26] Ibid. para. 45.