Jul 31st 2008
From The Economist print edition

What athletes may or may not do ought to be decided on
grounds of safety, not fairness.

ANOTHER Olympics, another doping debate. And this time it is
a fervent one, as recent advances in medical science have had the side-effect
of providing athletes with new ways of enhancing performance, and thus of
putting an even greater strain on people's ethical sensibilities.

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This is especially true of gene therapy. Replacing defective
genes holds out great promise for people suffering from diseases such as
muscular dystrophy and cancer. But administered to sprightly sportsmen, the
treatment may allow them to heave greater weights, swim faster and jump farther
(see article).
And that would be cheating, wouldn't it?

Two notions are advanced against doping in sport: safety and
fairness. The first makes sense, the second less so—particularly when it comes
to gene therapy. For instance, some people have innate genetic mutations which
give them exactly the same sort of edge. Eero Mantyranta, a Finn, was a double
Olympic champion in cross-country skiing. His body has a mutation that causes
it to produce far more of a hormone called EPO than a normal person would. This
hormone stimulates the production of red blood cells. A synthetic version of it
is the (banned) drug of choice for endurance athletes.

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Mr Mantyranta was allowed to compete because his advantage
was held to be a "natural" gift. Yet the question of what is natural is no less
vexed than that of what is fair. What is natural about electric muscle
stimulation? Or nibbling on nutrients that have been cooked up by chemists? Or
sprinting in special shoes made of springy carbon fibre? Statistically
speaking, today's athletes are unlikely to be any more naturally gifted than
their forebears, but records continue to fall. Nature is clearly getting a
boost from somewhere.

Given that so much unnatural tampering takes place, the onus
is surely on those who want to ban doping (genetic or otherwise) to prove that
it is unusually unfair. Some point out, for instance, that it would help big,
rich countries that have better access to the technology. But that already
happens: just compare the training facilities available to the minuscule
Solomon Islands squad alongside those of mighty Team America. In druggy sports
it may narrow the gap. One condition of greater freedom would be to enforce
transparency: athletes should disclose all the pills they take, just as they
register the other forms of equipment they use, so that others can catch up.

The gene genie is already out of the bottle

From this perspective, the sole concern when it comes to
enhancing athletic performance should be: is it safe for the athletes? Safety
is easier to measure than fairness: doctors and scientists adjudicate on such
matters all the time. If gene doping proves dangerous, it can be banned. But
even then, care should be exercised before a judgment is reached.

Many athletes seem perfectly willing to bear the risks of
long-term effects on their health as a result of their vocations. Aged Muhammad
Ali's trembling hands, for example, are a direct result of a condition
tellingly named dementia pugilistica. Sport has always been about sacrifice and
commitment. People do not admire Mr Mantyranta because he had the luck of the
genetic draw. They admire him for what he achieved with his luck. Why should
others be denied the chance to remedy that deficiency?

What do you think?