As Russian Wins Mount, So Does the Scrutiny

BEIJING — Inside the Olympic bubble, everybody just calls them the Russians.

The Olympics organizers prefer to designate them collectively as the “Russian Olympic Committee,” to avoid the name of the country, its flag and anthem as a punishment for past doping scandals.

But at events, they are simply Russians, as in “the Russians were too strong today,” or “did she pass the Russian?”

For, whatever the name, they remain a force at the Games, second in the medal count behind Norway, and always under scrutiny, whether for competitive reasons or others.

This is the third Olympics Russia is competing in under restrictions imposed because of a widespread state-sponsored doping and cover-up scheme at the 2014 Sochi Games it hosted.

Last week came the revelation that its star figure skater, a 15-year-old girl named Kamila Valieva, who is heavily favored to win a gold medal in the individual event Thursday, had tested positive for a banned substance several weeks before the Games. While a medal ceremony would be on hold if she finishes in the top three, she has been cleared to skate while her case is investigated, to the chagrin of some competitors.

That, coupled with the backdrop of a threatened invasion of Ukraine by Russia, has amped up attention on the Russians.

Sports is often called war minus the shooting, but at the Winter Olympics there is sometimes shooting. Russian and Ukrainian athletes, among others, are competing against one another in biathlon, which combines skiing and shooting rifles. They have skied and shot in proximity; nobody has gotten hurt.

But the cooperative spirit of the Games has not stopped the questions.

“I don’t think we’re in the position to discuss any political matters at the Games because Olympic Games were originally conceived in order to foster unity and not hostility and we’re all here in order to advance our common cause,” said Denis Spitsov, a Russian cross-country skier, after winning a gold medal on Sunday. “We’re here to win, so let’s leave politics to politicians.”

And while they may represent their countries, athletes are athletes with typical displays of good sportsmanship and camaraderie born from months or years on the same competitive circuit. Look no further than a Russian and a Ukrainian aerial skier embracing after winning medals Wednesday.

When Eduard Latypov, a Russian biathlete, tested positive for the coronavirus and had to isolate in Germany last month, Erik Lesser, a German competitor, lent Latypov a bicycle so that he could continue to train. “He helped as a friend and this was worth a lot,” Latypov said after winning a bronze medal. “This is what a biathlon family is about, doing such gestures.”

It is hard to know how the Games being held in China has affected the calculus in deciding whether and how to speak out, if at all. After Vladyslav Heraskevych, a Ukrainian skeleton athlete, displayed a sign that read “No War in Ukraine,” the Olympic committee declined to punish him because they considered it a “general call for peace.”

And when it comes to the doping questions, most athletes keep their suspicions not for public consumption, at least during the Games. Consider that Russians, clean or not, are often the best at a given sport and who doesn’t want to go up against the best?

“Russia is super good,” said Madelein Dupont, a curler from Denmark, after her team defeated Russia in a round robin match. “That’s not a secret. They’re one of the best teams in the world, obviously, having been for a long time. And to beat this team, it’s a big accomplishment.”

Of course not everybody is so sanguine about Russian participation in these Olympics. American commentators fell quiet during Valieva’s short program Tuesday, and Adam Rippon, a coach of one of the Americans, expressed vehemently that Valieva should not be allowed to continue to compete after she tested positive for a banned drug.

Yet Russian athletes, despite the doping cloud from Sochi, are tired of being found guilty by association.

“I believe it’s wrong to ask us these questions — you don’t achieve these results all of a sudden, you don’t become an Olympic champion, because it takes years and years of training,” the Russian cross-country skier Alexander Bolshunov said after a race.

“I don’t know nothing about Kamila and I’m so tired from these questions,” the Russian bobsledder Nadezhda Sergeeva said in English. “This my Olympics. I don’t know about it from this team. And here I compete and everyone ask me about Kamila. This my competition. I don’t know.”

Valieva’s positive sample was given on Dec. 25 at the Russian national championship, but it took the lab almost seven weeks to process, a delay that is part of the investigation. The only athletes to test positive at the Games are an Iranian skier, Hossein Saveh Shemshaki, who finished 84th in the only race he completed, and a Ukrainian skier, Valentyna Kaminska, who finished 70th and 79th in her two individual races.

Still, it has come to this: Every gesture a Russian athlete makes seemingly outside the norm, innocuous or not, is parsed for hidden meaning.

After a surprise victory over the United States in the semifinal of speedskating’s team pursuit, Russia’s Danil Aldoshkin celebrated by sticking out his middle fingers.

Nevermind that Aldoshkin’s gesture was directed toward the sparse crowd, in the exact opposite direction of the Americans, who said they did not see it. “I don’t even remember what happened after we crossed the line,” Aldoshkin said. “This was my first Games and my first medal. I didn’t want to offend anyone, so please forgive me if I did.”

Ruslan Zakharov, Aldoshkin’s teammate, explained why it made no sense for Aldoshkin to display any anger toward the Americans. “In speedskating, we fight against time, not against an opponent,” he said.

At the medal ceremony a few hours after the gesture, the Russian athletes, who won the silver medal, pulled the victorious Norwegians and the third-place Americans together for a group photograph.

What to make of that?

Jonathan Abrams contributed reporting.