22 February 2002

There was a time in my youth when dark pronouncements from Moscow, or veiled threats spoken by men with last names ending with combinations like -ov, -enko, -chev, or the like would be taken with utmost seriousness.

Those days, my friends, are over. The Russians know this, and generally act accordingly. Vladimir Putin, current Russian president, knows that his country is still a major player, but has the lamentable task of keeping Russia's place in the world after the Soviet breakup. He's got to deal with a loss of land, people, and an economic situation that Argentines would recognize, albeit much, much longer in duration. Russia fears increasing regionalization, losing global standing in the face of an expanded NATO, the EU, a China more open to the West, and new nuclear players like India and Pakistan who are opening a new era of multilateralism.

Which, even with Putin's remarks to the contrary, is why the rumblings of the Russian Olympic committee call for at least semi-serious consideration. International sports is perhaps the one place where Russia still has considerable pull, even though their athletic machine is showing as much rust as the average Russian factory.

Now, we're not talking mass destruction or the sweep of T-80s across the Fulda Gap, but there is some credit to the idea that the Olympics, without Russia, wouldn't be a whole movement. Even with what they consider a lackluster performance, Russia is in the top 5 for medals at Salt Lake, and will add to their numbers before everything wraps up. Consider too that since competing as Russia in 1994, Russia's won 42 winter medals. Their summer numbers are even better, and if you throw in the Unified Team and the USSR, the numbers put them second overall, trailing only the US. Take the Russians out of the Games, and the Olympics are closer to the Commonwealth Games than anything else.

On the other hand, though, you have to consider how much of this is frustration and how much of it is legitimate bias. These haven't been the best 48 hours for the Russians, and their claims run the gamut as far as believeablity goes. Did Slutskaya skate well enough for gold? Perhaps, but good luck proving tampering if there's not a Frenchwoman on the judging panel. Should Larissa Lazutina been barred from the cross-country relay? Perhaps, but I have no idea if increased hemoglobin really is a side-effect of menstruation. And did the Russian hockey team get shanked by the refs in their 1-0 win over the Czechs? Probably not, given the lackluster play the Russians have shown during the tournament.

In all of this I also see a little bit of dike (that's DEE-kay, not the single syllable pronunciation that would refer to levees or her). Dike is the ancient Greek principle of justice, sort of an Athenian "what comes around, goes around."

I apply it in this case given the USSR's shady international sports history, from the variety of chemical means used to bolster athletes (shared with friends like Czecheslovakia and East Germany) to their "no, it's not biased at all" 1980 Games that rivaled Berlin in terms of putting the best face on a corrupt and dying regime. The Russians are now reaping what they sowed, and will hopefully let calmer heads prevail before pulling up stakes and bailing on the closing ceremony and possibly Athens.

So as much as we all want to snicker at the Russians for what we may percieve as a tempest in a teapot, it may not be a bad time to at least listen well and reassure them that they're being heard. Besides, if they don't stay in the Olympic fold, this just may bring the Goodwill Games back to prominence, and who needs that?

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