The book under review is the published version of a PhD thesis defended in 2013 by Andrew Vaitiekunas at Melbourne Law School. A PhD is often taking stock of legal developments rather than anticipating or triggering them. This was definitely not the case of this book. Its core subject of interest is the study of the independence of the Court of Arbitration for Sport (CAS) – an issue that has risen to prominence with the recent Pechstein ruling of January 2015 of the Oberlandesgericht München. It is difficult to be timelier indeed.

The fundamental question underlying Vaitiekunas’ research is: “does CAS have sufficient independence to be a law-maker?”.[1] Indeed, as many in the field, Vaitiekunas considers the CAS as a key institution in the production of a lex sportiva or transnational sports law. Hence, he thinks that “the closer CAS’s standards of independence and impartiality are to those that apply to the judiciary, the stronger may be the claim that CAS’s lex sportiva constitutes law”.[2] Although I am myself sympathetic to the idea of the existence of a lex sportiva, I would be cautious in attributing it mainly to the CAS. Instead, I think that the notion of lex sportiva is rather reflecting the complex legal interaction between the rules (and raw political power) of international Sports Governing Bodies (SGBs) and the CAS’s jurisprudence.[3] Yet, this should not detract from the value of posing the question of CAS independence as a hallmark of its legitimacy.

The book is relatively slow in tackling this question. The author is keen on providing a comprehensive analysis of the general context of his work in Chapter 2 on the CAS and the lex sportiva[4], of his theoretical apparatus in Chapter 3 on the relevant theories of law[5] and of his analytical frame to assess the independence of the CAS in Chapter 4 on independence and impartiality.[6] Although these parts are certainly useful to comprehend the red thread guiding his research, they certainly could have been synthetized and shortened. Any reader interested mainly in the assessment of the independence of the CAS might be tempted to jump directly to Chapter 5 and 6 providing the core of the author's analysis and his most valuable contribution to legal scholarship.

Chapter 5 reviews in detail the well-known favourable assessment by the Swiss Federal Tribunal of the independence of the CAS.[7] Yet, the most important and interesting aspect of the chapter is that it already engages in a critical assessment of this jurisprudence. When discussing the impact of the post-Gundel Paris reform agreement, Vaitiekunas concludes that “a number of facets of the reform indicate continuing links, albeit indirect between the Olympic governing bodies and CAS, thus undermining the perception that CAS is truly an independent arbitral body”.[8] He notes that “[w]hether ICAS members are appointed from within or outside the membership of the top sports bodies, they ultimately owe their appointment to these bodies”.[9] He criticizes the CAS arbitrator list as it “does not indicate who nominated the individual arbitrators, leaving an athlete at risk of choosing an arbitrator nominated by the very IF [International Federation] against which they are taking CAS proceedings”.[10] In any case, “the appointment [as CAS arbitrator] can be seen as occurring under the control of the Olympic governing bodies through their members or delegates in ICAS”.[11] Interestingly, this reasoning is analogue to the one used by the Oberlandesgericht München in its Pechstein ruling.[12] Unsurprisingly, Vaitiekunas is also extremely critical of the SFT’s judgment in the Lazutina case endorsing the independence and the legitimacy of the CAS post-Gundel.[13] He argues that the SFT “appears almost as an apologist for CAS”[14] and criticizes its “non-objective approach to statements by people close to CAS”.[15] Moreover, he denounces a “formalistic approach in assessing CAS’s independence from the IOC”.[16] Indeed, by privileging formal factors, such as the ICAS formal legal independence, “the SFT implicitly chose not to lift ICAS’s veil to consider who has the real powers behind ICAS”.[17] Importantly in light of the Pechstein case, he attacks the fact that “the SFT limited its analysis concerning CAS’s institutional independence solely to CAS’s independence from the IOC and did not consider CAS’s independence from the Olympic governing bodies collectively”.[18] Finally, he reiterates his critique against the closed list system, arguing that “the very process for the nomination and selection of arbitrators to the list creates an appearance of bias in favour of the Olympic governing bodies”.[19] 

Henceforth, Chapter 6[20] vows to pitch CAS’s independence against judicial independence standards discussed in Chapter 4. Coming from Chapter 5, the suspense as to the outcome of the assessment is relatively limited, it is clear ex ante that the author is doubtful of the independence of CAS. He assesses first the individual independence of the arbitrators, referring to four main criteria: 

"The four main recognised safeguards of a judge’s personal independence under judicial independence norms are security of tenure in a judge’s appointment, restrictions on the removability of a judge, adequate and secure remuneration for judicial service and immunity from legal action in the exercise of judicial functions."[21]

Furthermore, he contends that an arbitrator must fulfil a yardstick of substantive independence implying “a judge to be free from any inappropriate connections or influences".[22] In this regard, he argues “all CAS arbitrators […] owe their presence on the closed list to the Olympic governing bodies, thereby creating the appearance of a lack of independence from them”.[23] Finally, regarding the institutional independence of the CAS, Vaitiekunas suggests three main focal points: the structural links, the administrative links and the financial links. The structural links of the CAS are perceived as the main hindrances to CAS’s independence. This is because, “[g]iven the mutual ties and links which the IOC, the IFs and the NOCs […] have under the Olympic Charter, these bodies may appear to have influence collectively on ICAS”.[24] His conclusions is sans appel: “The potential influence that the Olympic governing bodies may be perceived to exercise over ICAS and the CAS secretary general is inconsistent with judicial independence norms which require judicial matters to be exclusively within the responsibility of the judiciary”.[25]

This highly sceptical view regarding the independence of CAS, leads him to propose a set of potential reforms.[26] His first recommendation is to implement “a restructuring of ICAS to ensure that it is institutionally independent”.[27] This would imply that “appointments to ICAS should exclude members of the IOC, executive members of the IFs, NFs and NOCs and their employees and anyone recently in these roles”.[28] Moreover, “the CAS code should be amended to prohibit the appointment of Olympic governing body associates or athlete associates as CAS arbitrators”.[29] Regarding the funding of ICAS and CAS, he suggests “the imposition of a levy on the broadcasting rights to or sponsorships of major sports events”.[30] In order to secure CAS arbitrators individual independence, he is in favour of appointing them “on a tenured basis to a specified retirement aged”.[31] He also recommends, “that arbitrators be appointed randomly to cases or on a predetermined basis”.[32] Eventually, he advises “to provide arbitrators with greater security in remuneration by appointing them on a fixed salary, like judges, payable regardless of whether and how many cases they are appointed to arbitrate”.[33] Vaitiekunas is convinced that if his recommendations were implemented, “CAS would be a true sports court, rather than an arbitral tribunal”.[34] 

The final chapter 7 of the book dedicated to CAS’s independence from external judicial review is a bit of a mystery to the reviewer. Vaitiekunas offers a relatively succinct but rigorous comparative study of the various national (and European) judicial avenues where CAS awards can be reviewed. He concludes rightly that CAS awards can be subjected to the control of national courts and European Institutions. However, his assumption that “CAS awards must be independent from review or intervention by state courts, such that they operate as final authority in the resolution of sports disputes”[35] and especially the consequence he derives from it, denying to lex sportiva any status as a legal order seems to be flawed.[36] Indeed, in no legal context, national or otherwise, is a judicial decision absolutely final. National courts’ judgments are often contested when their recognition is asked in another country, this does not entail that national law is not law. Similarly, the subjection of the judgments of the highest national courts of the EU Member States to the preliminary reference mechanism in place under EU law should not lead us to deny any legal value to national law. We are living in a pluralist legal age ruled by complex transnational legal assemblages and lex sportiva fits very well into this picture. Nonetheless, on this point I share the view of the author of this book, the question of the legitimacy of both the rulemaking bodies of lex sportiva (read FIFA or the IOC) and its adjudicative bodies (read the CAS) is of great importance. In fact, their illegitimacy, and here I differ from Vaitiekunas’ argument, should not mainly imply their non-existence as law-making bodies, but the need for a reform (or even a revolution) in the way they operate.

This book is precious, because it highlights very well the challenges ahead in our transnationalizing legal world. Democratizing international (or transnational in this case) judicial bodies is key, if the ideal and democratic function of an independent justice for world citizens is to be sustained.[37]  We need to understand that transnational private bodies are in the business of exercising a kind of public authority and should live up to analogous accountability and legitimacy standards than the one that have been progressively developed in the framework of the nation-states for national courts. The CAS is one of those, and the pending Pechstein case is a necessary itch to reflexively trigger a much-needed reform of its internal structure and functioning. Which precise form this reform will take is not crucial. What is essential, however, is that it ensures that CAS arbitrators be seen as rendering sporting justice at a personal (if not geographical) distance from those who are adopting and enforcing the rules of the lex sportiva. This book is an important critical contribution in that direction.

[1] Vaitiekunas A (2014) The Court of Arbitration for Sport: Law-Making and the Question of Independence. Stämpfli Verlag, Berne, p 2.

[2] Ibid, p 3.

[3] Duval A (2013) Lex Sportiva: A Playground for Transnational Law. European Law Journal 19: 822-842.

[4] Ibid, pp 7-50.

[5] Ibid, pp 51-83.

[6] Ibid, pp 85-120.

[7] Ibid, pp 121-177.

[8] Ibid, p 142.

[9] Ibid, p 146.

[10] Ibid, p 150.

[11] Ibid, p 151.

[12] See supra n 1, Oberlandesgericht (OLG) München [2015], paras 3b, bb, 3aaa and bbb.

[13] Supra n 2, Vaitiekunas, pp 168-174.

[14] Ibid, p 169.

[15] Ibid.

[16] Ibid, p 171.

[17] Ibid.

[18] Ibid.

[19] Ibid, p 174.

[20] Ibid, pp 179-200.

[21] Ibid, p 184.

[22] Ibid, p188.

[23] Ibid, p 189.

[24] Ibid, p 191.

[25] Ibid, p 193.

[26] Ibid, pp 197-199.

[27] Ibid, p 197.

[28] Ibid, p 198.

[29] Ibid.

[30] Ibid, p 199.

[31] Ibid.

[32] Ibid.

[33] Ibid.

[34] Ibid.

[35] Ibid, p 265.

[36] Ibid, p 269 : ”CAS’s lack of final authority, in particular where state public policy or EU law are in question, derogates from CAS’s lex sportiva being an independent legal order“.

[37] For a similar idea applied to international courts, see Von Bogdandy A, Venzke I (2014) In Whose Name? A Public Law Theory of International Adjudication. Oxford University Press, New York.

Day 1: The impact of the revised World Anti-Doping Code on the work of National Anti-Doping Agencies
Day 2: The “Athlete Patient” and the 2015 World Anti-Doping Code: Competing Under Medical Treatment
Day 3: Proof of intent (or lack thereof) under the 2015 World Anti-Doping Code
Day 4: Ensuring proportionate sanctions under the 2015 World Anti-Doping Code

On 1 January, a new version of the World Anti-Doping Code (WADC or Code) entered into force. This blog symposium aims at taking stock of this development and at offering a preliminary analysis of the key legal changes introduced. The present blog will put the WADC into a more general historical and political context. It aims to briefly retrace the emergence of the World Anti-Doping Agency (WADA) and its Code. It will also reconstruct the legislative process that led to the adoption of the WADC 2015 and introduce the various contributions to the blog symposium.

I.              The WADA and its Code: A Short history

The WADA is a public-private hybrid governance body.[1] It is formally a Swiss foundation, but its executive bodies are composed equally of representatives of public authorities and Sports Governing Bodies (SGBs). The current president of WADA, Sir Craig Reedie, is also vice-president of the International Olympic Committee (IOC). The WADA was created as a response to the massive doping scandal that marred the Tour de France in 1998. Its original aim was to “set unified standards for anti-doping work and coordinate the efforts of sports organizations and public authorities”. The idea of a specific global organization was submitted at a World Conference on Doping in Sport in Lausanne, in February 1999. A few months later, on 10 November 1999, the WADA was established.

WADA’s key task was, and still is, to devise the global set of uniform rules applicable to the anti-doping fight: the WADC. The first version of the WADC was finalized in 2003. After amendments were tabled, a second version of the Code entered into force in 2009. As the WADA does not dispose of any public (or private for that matter) authority to implement the Code, it must be transposed by the SGBs and governments at the national and international level to gain some teeth (a list of the current signatories can be accessed here). Compliance with the Code is compulsory for the whole Olympic Movement as provided by article 43 of the Olympic Charter. WADA’s main responsibility is to monitor and report on the compliance of various federations and States. The Code was first endorsed by States in the Copenhagen Declaration on Anti-Doping in Sport in 2003, and later supported by the adoption of the UNESCO International Convention against Doping in Sport in October 2005. The Convention is one of the most ratified UNESCO Conventions to date with 182 signatories.

The WADC 2015 is a long document of more than 150 pages, composed of 25 articles complemented with comprehensive comments. It defines the anti-doping rule violations[2], the burden of proof applicable to doping cases[3] and the functioning of the prohibited list.[4] The Code indicates also the technical procedure applicable to doping tests[5] and the procedural rights of suspected athletes.[6] Most importantly, it provides for the sanctions regime applicable in case of a violation.[7] The Code likewise regulates the potential appeal procedures.[8] The WADC is complemented by a set of five International Standards, which are mandatory for the signatories. Finally, the implementation of the Code is also supported by a set of Model Rules, Guidelines and Protocols.

As illustrated by the recent doping scandal involving the Russian Athletics Federation, the question of compliance with the Code is a prodigious challenge for WADA. The organisation’s raison d’être is threatened by the well-known gap between law in the books and law in action. This discrepancy between a global uniform code and its many local realities, has led to recent calls for WADA to be tasked with the implementation of the Code and to take charge of the testing process. The true impact of the Code 2015 will partially depend on the clarification of the competences and responsibilities of WADA in this regard.

II.            Making the Code 2015: The legislative process

The WADC 2015 is the result of a peculiar legislative process. WADA claims, since its early days, that the Code is a living document, subjected to a productive feedback chain. The revision of the WADC started at the end of 2011 and covered three different phases of consultation over a two-year period. Approximately 2000 proposals for amendments were submitted to the drafting team. In the end, the Code was approved on 15 November 2013 at the World Conference on Doping in Sport in Johannesburg.

A specific team managed the consultation process and each of the three consultation phases included a review and the approval from the WADA Executive Committee. The first phase started on 28 November 2011 whereby a call for comments was communicated to stakeholders (WADA does not indicate how it defines the reach of this category), and feedback was received from 90 stakeholders. The comments led to the drafting of the Draft Version 1.0 of the 2015 Code, which was approved by the WADA Executive Committee in May 2012. On 1 June 2012, the second phase of consultation was initiated with a new call for comments issued to all the “stakeholders”. Over a period of four months, WADA received feedback from more than 100 stakeholders, which was incorporated in the second Draft of the 2015 Code. Eventually, a third consultation phase took place from 3 December 2012 until 1 March 2013, which led to the Executive Committee adopting a third draft of the Code. The final mould of the Code was submitted to the World Conference on Doping in Sport, hosted in Johannesburg in November 2013.[9]  The WADA Foundation Board adopted the final version of the Code at the Conference.

WADA is adamant (and proud of the fact) that the Code was drafted in an inclusive and participative process. Although it is undeniably positive that many stakeholders had the opportunity to access and discuss the drafts of the Code, the specific reasons leading to the policy choices made remain largely undisclosed. It is extremely difficult to know why a proposed amendment made it into the new Code, and why another did not. Moreover, the scope of the notion of a stakeholder is key to define who gets to contribute. If, for example (as I suspect), the SGBs and NADOs are massively overrepresented amongst the stakeholders consulted, it gives them a disproportionate voice in the legislative process of the new Code. The transparency of the process is also lagging, as is illustrated by the fact that the comments are nowhere to be found on WADA’s new website.[10] This lack of transparency is worrying for an institution partially founded and managed by public authorities. In any event, improving the transparency and the inclusiveness of the adoption process of the WADC is a must to ensure that WADA fulfils the good governance standards it is aspiring to.  

III.         The Blog Symposium on the WADA Code 2015

This blog symposium includes four contributions from very different perspectives, by specialized academics, practitioners and an anti-doping administrator. They deal primarily with the various practical changes to the anti-doping fight induced by the new Code. The objective is to show how the Code has already changed the way the “anti-doping world” is operating, and the transformations it might still trigger in the future. The symposium is organized with the help of both Marjolaine Viret and Emily Wisnosky.

The first contribution by Herman Ram, the Head of the Dutch Doping Autoriteit, covers the impact of the WADC 2015 on the work of national anti-doping agencies. Ram highlights the various ways in which the Code has (or may) profoundly changed the operations of the Dutch NADA. In particular through its focus on a smarter anti-doping fight. He anticipates the stumbling blocks ahead and identifies the key trends already under way.

The second contribution by Marjolaine Viret (@MarjolaineViret) and Emily Wisnosky (@Ewisnosky), the two researchers involved in the cutting edge WADC-Commentary project alongside Prof. Antonio Rigozzi (@AntonioRigozzi), focus on the new Code’s influence on Athletes under medical treatment. They study closely the new legal regime applicable to obtain a Therapeutic Use Exemption and the potential sanctions faced by athletes under medical treatment who have not obtained a TUE before a positive anti-doping test.

The third contribution by Mike Morgan (@MSL_Mike), a lawyer specialized in anti-doping disputes, examines the new sanctions regime stemming out of the Code 2015. As pointed out in various recent academic contributions,[11] this is probably the most fundamental change introduced in the Code. It is in any case the most visible, since it will most vividly affect the athletes failing an anti-doping test. As Morgan shows, the new Code vows to introduce a degree of flexibility in the sanctions regime and to provide smarter, tailor-made, sanctions. Whether this aim will be achieve is still very much an open question.

Finally, Howard Jacobs (@athleteslawyer), also a lawyer specialized in anti-doping disputes, analyses the function of the notion of intent in the new Code. Indeed, one of the main innovations of the Code is the introduction of specific sanctions based on the intentional or non-intentional nature of the doping violation. This raises many legal questions linked especially with the burden of proof. Jacobs goes in great lengths to provide a clear analytical map of the problems ahead regarding the need to demonstrate the (non-)intentional nature of an anti-doping violation. He poses fundamental questions that will likely pop up in front of anti-doping tribunals and the CAS, and offers some preliminary answers. 

[1] Its atypical public-private institutional structure has stirred the attention of scholars of the Global Administrative Law movement. See L. Casini, ‘Global Hybrid Public-Private Bodies: The World Anti-Doping Agency (WADA)’ accessible at http://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=1520751

[2] Article 2 WADC 2015

[3] Article 3 WADC 2015

[4] Article 4 WADC 2015

[5] Article 5,6,7 WADC 2015

[6] Article 8 WADC 2015

[7] Article 9,10, 11, 12 WADC 2015

[8] Article 13 WADC 2015

[9]Unfortunately, it is impossible to review the presentations and interventions made at the conference, as its website has been desactivated.

[10] Though they were online on the older version of the website.

[11] See, for example, A. Rigozzi,  U. Haas, E. Wisnosky and Marjolaine Viret, ‘Breaking down the process for determining a basic sanction under the 2015 World Anti-Doping Code’, The International Sports Law Journal, June 2015, Volume 15, Issue 1, pp 3-48 (available at http://link.springer.com/article/10.1007/s40318-015-0068-6?wt_mc=alerts.TOCjournals)