An alternative approach to the prevention of doping in cycling

International Journal of Drug Policy 25 (2014) 1094–1102

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International Journal of Drug Policy journal homepage: www.elsevier.com/locate/drugpo

Research paper

An alternative approach to the prevention of doping in cycling Olivier Aubel, Fabien Ohl ∗ ISSUL, Faculté des sciences sociales et politiques, Université de Lausanne, Géopolis, 1015 Lausanne, Switzerland1

a r t i c l e

i n f o

Article history: Received 21 January 2014 Received in revised form 24 March 2014 Accepted 21 August 2014 Keywords: Doping Cycling Sociology Prevention Organisation Socialisation

a b s t r a c t Background: Framed by an overly reductionist perspective on doping in professional cycling as an individual moral failing, anti-doping policies tend to envisage a combination of education and repression as the primary intervention strategies. We offer an alternative approach, which seeks to understand doping practices as embedded in social relations, especially in relation to team organisation and employment conditions. Methods: We undertake an in-depth analysis of the functioning of nine of the 40 world professional cycling teams, and the careers of the 2,351 riders who were or have been professionals since 2005. Results: We find that anti-doping approaches rest upon questionable assumptions of doping as an individual moral fault, and have not produced the anti-doping effects expected or intended. Based on an analysis of team practices, and the ways in which riders produce their achievements, we offer an alternative perspective which emphasises doping as a product of social-economic condition. Our findings emphasise employment and business models, as well as day-to-day working conditions, as structural drivers of doping practices in which individuals and teams engage. Conclusion: Anti-doping requires structural as well as cultural change within the sport of professional cycling, especially in the ways teams function economically. © 2014 Elsevier B.V. All rights reserved.

Introduction There is a substantial literature on doping in sport. This includes studies of its prevalence (Petróczi, Mazanov, Nepusz, Backhouse, & Naughton, 2008; Strano Rossi & Botrè, 2011), how doping is measured (Lentillon-Kaestner & Ohl, 2010; Pitsch, Emrich, & Klein, 2007), doping which targets young people or its use amongst amateurs and professionals (Laure, 1997; Yesalis & Bahrke, 2000), its prevalence in specific sports (Kartakoullis, Constantinos, Pouloukas, Michael, & Loizou, 2008; Morente-Sanchez, MateoMarch, & Zabala, 2013), and the types of substances or supplements consumed (Lun, Erdman, Fung, & Reimer, 2012). Doping is embedded in the history of sport (Dimeo, 2007), and has important political dimensions. It has often been the subject of advertising and official collaboration between sportsmen and the pharmaceutical industry (Dimeo, 2007; Hoberman, 1992); a collaboration which was boosted during the Cold War (Riordan, 1991). Contrary to what is often claimed by sport organizations, the causes of doping are not external to sport, rather the exercise physiologists, trainers

∗ Corresponding author. Tel.: +41 021 692 31 11; fax: +41 021 692 31 15. E-mail addresses: [email protected], [email protected] (F. Ohl). 1 http://www.unil.ch/ssp. http://dx.doi.org/10.1016/j.drugpo.2014.08.010 0955-3959/© 2014 Elsevier B.V. All rights reserved.

and physicians contribute to doping, its efficacy and its spread (Hoberman, 1992; Waddington & Smith, 2009). This indicates that doping in sport needs to be understood as a cultural practice, and not simply as an individual choice of ‘immoral cheaters’. Harm reduction requires an appreciation of the social contexts of drug use, and of the interactions between individuals and their environments (Rhodes, 2009). From the 1960s, the use of doping in sport was increasingly labelled ‘deviant’, to a large extent by doctors playing the role of ‘moral entrepreneurs’ (Becker, 1963). With more or less conviction, the state and various sporting organizations began to build up the means of repression and prevention of doping. Preventative education was first targeted at young athletes (Houlihan, 2002; Trabal, 2008), although the effects of such initiatives are not easy to assess as the sporting establishment has avoided considering its own responsibility for the persistence of doping (Kayser & Broers, 2012), tending instead to depict such practices in terms of individual morality (Stewart & Smith, 2010). Yet doping is a product of interaction between individuals and their social and risk environments, as in the case of other forms of drug use (Rhodes, 2009). This paper is framed by such a ‘risk environment’ approach and combines Howard Becker’s sociology of deviance (Becker, 1963) with Pierre Bourdieu’s field and habitus theory (Bourdieu, 1984). To understand how doping becomes

O. Aubel, F. Ohl / International Journal of Drug Policy 25 (2014) 1094–1102

normalized, we observe how cyclists’ socialization processes are shaped through their interactions with coaches, physicians, teammates, and other athletes. Becker’s sociology is useful for understanding the distinctions between ‘insider’ and ‘outsider’ perspectives in relation to the meaning of drug consumption in sport. For example, Hughes and Coakley (1991) observe that the interactions between individuals and their environments can explain doping as a ‘positive deviance’. Because performance is at the core of the doxa of the cycling field (Bourdieu, 1984 [1979], 549), there is often a normalization of all the means that improve performance, including illegal enhancement products. All organizations and people related to a doped athlete need to be considered in an analysis of doping which seeks to understand participants in a specific “social drama of work” (Hughes, 1976). The sport organizations (such as the UCI; the International Union of Cyclists), the event organizers, the media, the team staff, the teammates, and the athletes all cooperate to produce, in two provinces of meaning (Schutz, 1962, 230), both a sporting and a media performance that includes the practices related to doping and judgements related to it (Aubel, Brissonneau, & Ohl, 2013). Observation of cyclists shows that professional socialization means learning how to manage the contradictions between the profane and the professional world and to engage in “practices that always have double truths, difficult to hold together” (Bourdieu, 1998, 181–182). The risk of doping seems to result from this “drama,” which functions as the riders’ ecosystem. The actors in this system (directeurs sportifs, coaches, doctors, the sporting bodies and the race organizers) may, if not necessarily deliberately, be encouraging the use of illegal substances. Understanding this socialization process is central to understanding how this shapes the young cyclist’s habitus through embodied dispositions (Ohl, Fincoeur, Lentillon-Kaestner, Defrance, & Brissonneau, 2013). However, it is not sufficient to understand the socialization that precedes entry into a professional team: this gives too narrow a view. That is why it is necessary to observe the interactions among the actors in relation to the structural and cultural conditions that shape everyday practices and the riders’ habitus (Bourdieu, 1977). Although some socialization favours dispositions – conducive or not to doping, mainly through the influence of the family and the amateur clubs – a professional secondary socialization can alter the previous norms. One main stake is to understand in what circumstances some of the socially acquired dispositions can be activated or deactivated. It is crucial, then, to question the cyclist’s environment in order to decipher the context of activation of the habitus, as suggested by Lahire (2011). The ‘team’ plays a crucial role because of its influence on cyclists’ everyday practices. We do not argue that a cycling team is a “total institution” in Goffman’s sense, but one can recognize that top-level sport takes possession of individuals by dispossessing them of part of their time and space, and imposes a specific universe that tends to envelop them (Goffman, 1961). That is why our research focuses both on the macro environment that organizes their activity and on the microenvironment that influences cyclists’ daily practices. This theoretical frame allows us to move beyond a view of doping as a question of individual ethics and to identify conditions that may be conducive to the genesis of doping practices. Our theoretical approach and our empirical observations of cyclist culture (see Method section) question the relevance of anti-doping policies and show them to be ambiguous and relatively ineffective. If a policy is aimed at solving a problem, in this case doping, it is important to question its pertinence by examining the policy instruments to which it gives rise. This is done by works that argue for a liberalization of doping (Kayser & Smith, 2008). Observing doping as the result of the interaction between the athlete and all component parts of the production of the sporting performance, make it clear

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that the real nature of the problem has not been correctly identified. That is why we aim to show that the educational and repressive edifice of anti-doping is based on a debatable definition of doping as an individual moral fault. While earlier socializations may facilitate the transmission of a doping culture, not everything hangs on an ethics already shaped in the cycling culture of doping (Waddington & Smith, 2009). Certain conditions of work, employment and organization offered by the teams can induce a recourse to prohibited methods and substances. Thus, it is important to consider closely the conditions of production of achievement in the work of professional cyclists. Our data indicate that the risk of doping varies according to three main dimensions: (1) structural factors, mainly a ‘political economy’ dimension, that influence the precariousness of cyclists; (2) the consequences for working conditions offered to professional cyclists; and (3) the specific team culture of training that is at the core of riders’ everyday experiences. Our analysis seeks to contribute to guidelines for a new harm reduction approach to doping.

Method This study is part of a project funded by the UCI with a view to changing its anti-doping policy. The results presented here are based on a survey conducted among teams of professional cyclists from the top two world divisions, supplemented by qualitative interviews. We collated four independently compiled quantitative databases established each year by the UCI: the file of punished riders (2005–2012); season results race by race for all professional riders (2010–2012); files describing demographics and employment of 2351 professional riders’ (2005–2012); and a database describing teams (2005–2012). The linking of these databases and their coverage of the period 2005–2012 offers a unique view of the population of professional cyclists and their teams. Database linkage and analysis was carried out using Excel and R software. In addition, we analysed the operation of 10 professional teams in the first (Pro teams) and second (Continental pro) world divisions. For each team, we sought to conduct eight qualitative interviews: the team manager, two sport directors, the trainer or head of performance, two riders, the physician or head of medicine, and the sponsor. These personnel were not available for interview in every team because of absence or, in the case of four financial partners, refusal. In total we conducted 72 interviews. Transcribed and then processed using the software N.Vivo, these interviews were analysed with a thematic method based on prebuilt indicators relating to organization, work and employment. The analysis was vertical in the sense of aiming to understand each teams’ functioning. The analyses were then compared, which led us to build two ideal team types: the first focusing on the practices producing a higher risk of doping; the second, concentrating on practices with the lowest risk of doping. In addition to these individual interviews, in the framework of our support for the change in UCI anti-doping policy, we conducted group interviews with three groups of 23–25 sport directors. The aim of these meetings was to discuss with them the research findings. The significance of these data are both in the interactions we observed and in the more informal discussions that followed each meeting. We also participated in six meetings with international stakeholders of professional cycling about reform: race organizers, riders, teams, and UCI members. In both cases (group meetings and official stakeholder meetings), ethnographic notes were used to complement the data from the interviews.

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The weapons of anti-doping An anti-doping policy organized around repression and education of the young From the 1960s (Brissonneau & Le Noé, 2006), two types of actors in the battle against doping began to structure their action. The first set was linked to the sporting movement, which in principle had the greatest legitimacy in dealing with matters taking place within its sphere of activity. The International Olympic Committee (IOC), and federations such as the International Association of Athletics Federations (IAAF) or the UCI, set up anti-doping regulations. The second set was states and international organizations. Doping became an object of public policies. It was made a statutory offence in France in 1965 (Law no. 65–421 of 01.06.65) and then in Belgium (Bastide, 1970; Houlihan, 2002). As a result of scandals, especially in cycling, it increasingly attracted the attention of international institutions. The Council of Europe adopted a resolution on the doping of athletes in 1967 (Houlihan, 2002, p. 164). The action of these two groups in the struggle against doping remained relatively uncoordinated until the 1990s. In 1998, during the Tour de France the so-called Festina affair broke out (named after one of the teams found to have organized the doping of their riders). This event involved the French police and legal system and marked a turning point in the process of internationalization and harmonization of the fight against doping. The discovery of this collectively orchestrated doping gave further impetus to the process of unification of the dispersed efforts of the public authorities and the sports movement and led to the creation of the World AntiDoping Agency (WADA) in 1999. In 2005, UNESCO “International Convention against Doping in Sport” was a high point in the internationalization of the battle against anti-doping: “Governments around the world. . . agreed to apply the force of international law to anti-doping.”2 The repressive mechanisms were reinforced with the establishment of the World Anti-Doping Code, the Anti-Doping Administration & Management System (ADAMS) “Whereabouts” mechanism for tracking the location of athletes and the cyclists’ biological passport (2008). The Cycling Anti-doping Foundation (CADF) has managed antidoping since 2008 on behalf of the UCI, with an annual budget of US$ 7.5 million. In 2012 it carried out 14,168 tests on cyclists, 66% of them on professional riders (9296 tests in and out of competition [Rossi, Banuls, & Zorzoli, 2013, p. 13]). The number increased by a factor of 2.5 between 2006 and 2012. The activity of the foundation represented 68% of the tests recorded for cycling by the WADA in 2012. Cycling is the third most controlled sport after football and athletics in terms of the annual number of controls, which means a much higher annual average number of tests per athlete for the cyclists (there are more professionals in one football league such as Spain’s than professional cyclists globally). The panoply of controls includes “classic” tests but is also based on the biological passport introduced in 2008. The principle is to establish a cyclist’s haematological and steroidal profile so as to detect suspect variations. This dissuasive arm of the CADF is complemented by an educational programme, mainly aimed at cyclists, which takes the form of an interactive online training course entitled “True champion or cheat?” In seeking to make young riders aware of the ethical and health risks of doping, the CADF is not breaking new ground, since all prevention programmes are based on the idea that educating the young is the only way to preserve the values of sport.3 The

2 http://www.unesco.org/new/fr/social-and-human-sciences/themes/antidoping/international-convention-against-doping-in-sport/. 3 “The long-term solution is effective values-based education programs that empower athletes and youth to make informed decisions to protect the integrity of

idea is that the young must be warned so that they avoid behaving like their ‘dishonest’ predecessors. This is confirmed by the study in France by Trabal (2008), which identified 121 preventive tools, first made up of slideshows, posters, brochures, websites and audiovisual documents. When educators and trainers are targeted, it is often with a view to sensitizing the young to ethics. These policies based on the acquisition of moral values4 are commonly echoed, in particular by researchers who argue that dissuasive sanctions are not enough.5 There is no discussion about the efficacy of a focus on educating the young because it is a matter of consensus, although there are reasons to doubt its effectiveness. This injunction is repeated at the highest level by international bodies, such as UNESCO, whose Director General affirmed, at the Conference of Parties to the International Convention Against Doping in Sport in 2011, that it is essential to do more in education, especially among the young, in order to fight against doping in sport and ensure a better future. Questionable efficacy When this programme is measured for effectiveness, two limitations were identified. The first is the number of cyclists sanctioned by the UCI; an average of 41 professional cyclists sanctioned over the period 2006–2012; that is, 4.3% of the 952 professional cyclists. At first sight one might conclude that there is a high level of probity among riders based on the ratio between the number of tests (14,128 in 2012) and number of positive cases (32 in 2012) or between the number of professional cyclists (952) and that same number of positive cases (3.3%). But these figures are of limited reliability since they need to be revised retrospectively. There are the statements of cyclists themselves, most notably the confession of Lance Armstrong, seven times winner of the Tour de France. But the numbers may also be increased by analysis of archived samples containing substances that were formerly undetectable but prohibited, as was the case for erythropoietin (EPO) or for more recent substances such as AICAR, TB-500 and GW1516. Testing protocols will always be “a step behind the advances in biomedicine” (Kayser & Smith, 2008). The fact that one cannot draw a line under a list that is constantly being extended by confessions and retrospective analyses calls into question the reliability of the average of 9.7 tests that professional riders have to undergo each year. The question is all the more legitimate since biologists and doctors argue about the reliability of the tests, especially those intended to detect a substance like EPO (Kayser, 2008; Saugy, Robinson, & Lamon, 2008). It can also happen that these same researchers establish the discrepancy between the number of cases found and the probable prevalence when looking at the biological passport. In athletics, for example, “estimates of the prevalence of blood doping ranged from 1% to 48% for subpopulations of samples and a mean of 14% for the entire study population” (Sottas et al., 2011). As well as debating the effectiveness of anti-doping, the advocates of doping deregulation point to the disproportion between sporting sanctions and their social consequences, which we clearly identified in our survey (Box 1).

sport.” David Howman, WADA Director General, http://www.wada-ama.org/ Documents/Resources/Publications/PlayTrue Magazine/PlayTrue 2009 1 Engaging The Athlete EN.pdf. 4 Content analysis of the WADA Tool Kit designed for teachers and, through them, young people, shows a commitment to defending the “ethical values of sport” (http://www.wada-ama.org/en/Education-Awareness/Tools/Teachers/). 5 With very little explanation, many researchers argue that “prevention programmes should be. . . targeted at young people and adolescents when attitudes and values are being formed” (Backhouse et al., 2009, p. i); “These findings empower the idea that, apart from more efficient controls, anti-doping education programmes are needed from early ages” (Morente-Sanchez et al., 2013); etc.


Box 1: The social consequences of the sporting sanction Interviewer: Afterwards, it’s like it was for X [a cyclist sanctioned for doping]? He was caught for using a drip? Doctor: Not even! He was caught in possession. . . But he wasn’t caught doing it. He got a reprimand for that. So stupid! Completely out of proportion! One day that guy will end up on the street. He’ll end up bumming; I can say that because I know him. Interviewer: He has nothing to fall back on? Doctor: Nothing! He’ll never be taken on again in cycling. The damage is done. Even if nowadays people are beginning to say that, well. . . In France, nobody will want him. Abroad, he doesn’t have a track record that will have people fighting for him. There are loads of cyclists like him! The judge who did that hit the jackpot in the Tour de France. “Now I’ll make my name, I’ll be on the front pages, upholding morality, blah blah. . .” The police questioned me for two hours to find out who X was. I said to them: “Look, I’m sorry for this kid, there’s nothing else he can do for a living. Nothing. Intellectually, he’s a nice lad, but, hmm. . .!” (Interview with World Tour team doctor, 2013).

Table 1 Breakdown by age of cyclists sanctioned and all professional cyclists. Cyclists sanctioned % Age under 20 20–25 26–30 30–35 Over 35 Total

Total rider population 2005–2012

0% 11% 31% 45% 13%

3% 43% 29% 21% 4%

100%

100%

Over/under representation −3% −32% −2% 24% 9%

Cohorts 2005–2012.

Noting the ages of the cyclists sanctioned between 2005 and 2012 (Table 1) nonetheless shows some encouraging signs for those who perceive the current anti-doping regime to be succeeding. The over-representation of sanctioned cyclists aged over 30 (58%, whereas they make up only 25% of the population), seems to indicate that the older generation of riders – those who were competing in the late 1990s – have not broken with the culture in which taking certain substances was a necessary part of the job. At the same time, the under-representation of young riders (aged 20–25) among those sanctioned may be a sign of the short-term effectiveness of preventive messages. But, as in any attempt to evaluate policies, linking intervention to an improvement in the problem it addresses is difficult. Here, one needs to be able to establish a link between exposure to the anti-doping message and the observed probity of the cyclists. While the figures invite us to do so, the recipients, when they do not see them as pointless, deride them or bring them in as ‘buzzwords’ to produce the conventional required statements to journalists or sociologists inquiring about doping. Our research bears witness to this: the strange homogeneity of the anti-doping discourses collected from young cyclists, particularly the fear of fathering a handicapped child, are simply phraseology adopted from a video distributed by the UCI as part of its prevention campaign: “Ah, that! You don’t know it? It comes from the UCI video. The riders here find it so ridiculous that they make a sketch out of it, learning the dialogues by heart. Have you seen it? It’s hilarious. . .” (UCI ProTeam coach, 2013)

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The educational messages are thus often out of sync with the riders’ experience; their discourses confirm that prevention messages on doping, as on drugs, have some effect on the recognition of dangers but not really on behaviour (Roe & Becker, 2005; Trabal, 2008). This is not surprising: show that British athletes have internalized the anti-doping norms – shame and the associated social sanctions are perceived as a significant deterrent to doping – but they also suggest that “views and values evolve as an elite sporting career progresses.” This way of targeting athletes, and more especially young athletes, reflects a naive and over-simplified view of the question of doping. In making the athletes the main target and seeking to shape their moral values, the messages push into the background other actors in sport who in fact play a major role in the socialization of cyclists and in passing on norms regarding the production of performance. Doctors, coaches, soigneurs, directeurs sportifs, physiotherapists and also executives are all part of the working group who produce performances and define the norms of what is and is not acceptable. Several studies point to the role of the athlete’s entourage in reinforcing anti-doping messages (Backhouse, McKenna, & Patterson, 2009: 2). However, these messages continue to take into account only peripherally, the athletes’ networks. One might in theory imagine that education and training would be effective in cases of ignorance about the immoral and dangerous act of doping. Cross-analysis of the reasons for ignoring the rules by Houlihan (2002: 126) does indeed indicate some non-compliance due to unawareness, but exposure to anti-doping messages is such that no young cyclist can escape them. From a theoretical point of view, it is impossible to change internalized ways of thinking and acting, the product of socialization processes over many years – a ‘habitus’ – through messages alone. Dispositions are shaped by past socializations and shape current practices (Bourdieu, 1984: 170) that need to be analysed in the context of action to understand the strength, durability and transferability of the dispositions (Lahire, 2011). This does not mean that messages are unnecessary but, as argued below, their efficacy cannot be high without organizations and teams that socialize into antidoping. A restrictive definition in terms of individual moral fault The dominant perception of doping as a breach of sporting ethics leads designers of anti-doping policies to envisage repression and a reductive conception of education as the only possible strategies. Such a view underlies the policy of the UCI; its testing programme, and also its education programme, evocatively entitled True champion or cheat? This rhetoric echoes the foundations of the World Anti-Doping Code: “Anti-doping programmes seek to preserve what is intrinsically valuable about sport. This intrinsic value. . . is how we play true. . .” (p. 14 of the Code). Anti-doping is based on the belief that sporting achievement is the symbol of individual merit (Ehrenberg, 1991), measured by the quantity and visibility of the effort put in. This vision of sport as a metaphor of merit is accompanied by a discourse on its educational virtues, “the belief in the mythical capacity of sport to make young men and women into better human beings” (Stewart & Smith, 2010: 194). As a consequence, sports managers as well as the media, support a policy of sanctions to preserve these beliefs in sport as essentially character-building. These approaches to doping prevention tend to make it an individual deviant practice, avoiding the need to consider the responsibilities of sports organizations in the production of doping. The various reasons given for non-compliance with the rules has already been established (Houlihan, 2002: 118). They have been identified as: (1) ignorance; (2) a conscious decision to cheat; and – the final and interesting case – (3) a lack of free will in the sense that

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the offence is induced by constraints exerted on the offender. Since information seems to circulate through the education campaigns, everything proceeds as if both in describing the act of doping and in the identity of the persons to be sanctioned, nothing other than cheating, stemming from an individual moral fault, could be envisaged.

The short length of career has the greatest impact on those riders at the bottom of the salary scale, such as this team rider starting out on his career: “It’s my job but I also have to look at the financial aspect: in 10 years or so my career will be over. And I’ve put hardly any money aside. For the moment it’s OK. . . I’ve managed to save a bit, but I’m a pro and I still live with my parents, at the age of twenty-four. . . It’s crazy. We are world class. I’m sure the people who come and watch the Giro d’Italia can’t imagine that. . . that I earn 2,400 euros a month, and there are a lot who earn less than me” (rider, ProTeam UCI team, 2013).

Moving beyond a vision of doping as purely an individual moral fault To understand cyclists’ working environment, we shall focus on the three main dimensions of their professional experience: the economy of cycling; the cyclist’s working conditions; and the specific team culture of training that is at the core of the cyclist’s everyday experiences. The economy of cycling and the precariousness of cyclists The Tour de France was a media product, invented by a newspaper, L’Auto, as a marketing tool (Dauncey & Hare, 2003: 6). Media companies are still involved as organizers of the main cycling events. Amaury Sport Organization (ASO), owner of L’Equipe, which succeeded L’Auto as the main French sports newspaper, controls 40% of the 154 racing days of the UCI World Tour. With RCS Sport, organizer of the Giro, Milan-San-Remo, and Tirreno-Adriatico, belonging to RCS group (owner of Corriere de la Serra, Gazetta dello Sport, and El Mundo) and Flanders Classics, owned by the media group Woestijnwis, they control the primary elements of the economy of cycling. The international federation, the UCI, has power of regulation, especially as regards the race calendar, but does not control the main races and thus the economic power. As a consequence, the teams do not have control over their work. They do not derive any direct income from the increasing broadcasting rights of the Tour de France. They can only negotiate their airtime with the sponsors that finance more than 90% of their budget.6 Compared to other sports, such as football, which relies on a diversity of resources, cyclists have little control over their economic resources. The division of power between the organizers, who control the economy of cycling, and the UCI, with its legal authority, marginalizes the teams and the cyclists in the management of cycling. As a consequence, the cyclists’ working environment is shaped by policies that they have little power to influence. Risk is a main characteristic over which they have little power. Foremost among the risk factors is the threat of losing one’s job and the general precariousness of professional cycling. This is linked to a very short career length: in the world top two divisions, it is 4.7 years on average and ranges from 3 to 7 years for 50% of the rider population. An analysis of the survival of the 2006–2012 cohorts shows an average dropout rate of 32% in the first year, and by the end of the third year 52% of new riders have left the peloton. The brevity of career is all the more important for riders who have sacrificed other career opportunities for cycling, like the young rider who said: “I hope that cycling can give me a lot. If things go well, I hope I can finish on a high and not have to go and work in a factory. But if that doesn’t work out, I think I’ll have to knuckle under and go into a factory, but for the moment I’m on a roll and I’m trying to make the most of it. . . Anyway, I just have to hope” (rider, Continentales Professionnelles team, 2012).

6 Budgets are confidential, we cannot share the information, but the budget of the Team Ag2r, 90% of which depends on sponsors, is very representative of team finances see Donzel, J. (2011), Rapport relatif à la fédération française de cyclisme. MJS, rapport M-22/2011, 192–193.

The link between length of career and remunerations probably explains why the oldest riders are over-represented among those caught doping (Table 1). The hope of extending their careers, combined with a lower risk of early eviction, seems to explain why they more readily than younger riders cross the line. The precariousness suffered by riders is equalled by that of the teams. The professional teams who bear the names of large and well-known companies (for instance, Sky, Belkin, Garmin, Movistar) are in fact small enterprises with 50–100 employees, exclusively financed by those companies. The financial partners are extremely volatile, prone to withdraw funding when they change their communication strategy or fear a doping scandal. Thus, in the period 2005–2012, 92 professional teams were accredited by the UCI either in ProTeams or in Continentales professionelles, and 53 of them have disappeared (41 of these did not survive more than two years). Of the remaining 39, 22 have secured long-term sponsorship, but 17 regularly change partner. Of these 17, nine have changed sponsor at least three times in seven years, roughly every two years.7 So, as a team manager points out, precariousness is not restricted to riders: “There’s one special feature in our sport for a start – the fragile. . . equilibrium. . . of resources. A lot of professional sports can count on TV rights, football for example. (. . .) We depend on sponsorship. . . So, if the sponsor pulls out, the team doesn’t exist any more. (. . .) We wouldn’t survive for a year on the money the team has in its own right. Not even a year. (. . .). That’s what makes our structures so weak in the end. But that’s the way professional cyclists live, that’s how it is. A professional rider. . . I was a pro for nine years. You have one- or two-year contracts, so you know very well that. . . from one day to the next, it can all be over. (. . .) You just have to live with the uncertainty” (ProTeam team manager, 2012). The structural precariousness of employment in the professional sport, together with the vulnerability of the business model of the teams, increases the pressure on riders and their employers. The prospect of the termination of a contract with a financial partner can lead the protagonists to incite or succumb to the use of prohibited substances. While some drivers are imbued with a substance culture acquired in the amateur world, others, previously untouched by this, progressively succumb to the effects of the business model and the employment conditions specific to professional cycling: “No one had to, even in. . . I was in the Tour [de France] team so I know. When I turned pro, I was doing well as an amateur. I was winning races. And when I started off as a pro, I got some good results. In my first year I was beating guys who turned pro

7

Source: analysis of a database compiled by us from UCI data.


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at the same time as me. Then after two years I was dropped. I remember X who went pro at the same time, two years later he was second in the Tour and I won nothing. Then my DS [directeur sportif] and the manager said to me ‘You’re not training hard enough, you’re not taking this seriously.’ Well, I knew I was taking it seriously. I couldn’t have trained more than I did. But telling me that I wasn’t doing my job was just the thing to destabilize me. So I said to myself, my boy, you are under threat, it’s dangerous. So I started to inform myself, and then I slipped below the line” (former ProTeam team rider – Continentales team directeur sportif, 2012). The case of this rider, which is not isolated, can be seen as an example of how a work organization ends up modifying one of its employees’ relationship to the norm. This entry into doping corresponds, as has been shown, to a shift into a professional world, or at least one zone of it, where the use of substances is what makes it possible to “do the job.” Despite a socialization described as not conductive to doping, the secondary socialization and the interactions of the individual with the “working group” lead us to reconsider this cyclist’s judgements. This strong influence of working environment raises the question of the legitimacy of a sanction imposed solely on the rider, whose free will is in a sense diminished by the grip of the organizational and normative constraints on his activity. As a consequence, the link between the forms of employment, the business model and doping should lead one to address its prevention by putting forward alternative policies education and individual sanctions. The first alternative is to increase career security and support the post-careers of riders. The second lies in supplying the teams with sources of finance other than those of commercial sponsors whose commitment is fickle.

Constraints on the teams and their working conditions The second risk factor of doping stems from the working conditions, and also the forms of management that the teams impose on their riders, although these can differ by team. Promoting the good practices of the best organized teams could be a means of reducing the organizational risks of recourse to doping. The inequality of resources among the teams and also their ranking in the world hierarchy is reflected in the number of race days imposed on their riders. This unequal workload results from two constraints. The first is territorial anchoring. This is undergone by teams whose country is one in which the most World Tour or Continentales races are organized (France, Italy, Spain, Belgium, Switzerland). The French teams race about 40% of their time on their national circuit, whereas teams spend on average 23% of their racing days in France. This constraint derives in part from the national communication strategy of the sponsor (for example, La Française des Jeux and AG2R in France; Lampre in Italy). By contrast, other more “stateless” teams are free from this constraint. The Sky team (Great Britain), in first position, has only 3% of its race days in Great Britain. Katyusha (Russia) and Astana (Kazakhstan) do not race at all in their “home” countries. Territorial anchoring is accompanied, for some teams, by a greater competitive investment in the Continentales races (second division), whereas the “stateless” teams achieve their results in a more balanced way over the two levels. Sky, for example, scores 54% of its top-three places in the World Tour whereas a team like FDJ achieves 81% of its top-three places on the Continentales circuit. The second constraint on ProTeam teams is linked to their ranking. Comparison between a team in the top three of the ProTeam league (first division) and a team at the bottom of the league is fairly indicative of these constraints. The former has a budget of almost twenty million euros, whereas the latter receives only half as much.

Fig. 1. Rider’s days of racing in year: comparison between the two teams.

The weaker team makes its riders race an average of 74 days a year, whereas the top-ranking team only demands 63 days on average; 50% of the riders in the former team race between 64 and 84 days, and half the riders in the latter team race between 54 and 73 days (see Fig. 1). Eleven riders in the weaker team of our sample race on more than 80 days a year whereas one of the top teams only makes four of its riders race so often. In the weaker team, a rider competing in a Grand Tour races 80 days a year whereas one of the top three teams, also in our sample, makes its riders compete in a Grand Tour race on only 58 days on average. The team with fewer resources explained its approach to the competitions. It does not call on certain riders ‘bought’ on the market to ‘stock’ the team with UCI points, which are obligatory for access to the elite but which have no sporting value at this level; this creates a deficit in the team numbers and leads to an overloading on the other cyclists in the team. To this are added injuries, which are more frequent because of the overload, and also the riders caught doping, who are more numerous in this weakened team. The most fragile teams thus impose a greater workload on their competitive riders. They cannot manage their season in the same way as the top-ranking teams, because they cannot reserve themselves for the most important races or race their ‘reserve team’. For example, the Sky team, whose riders were on the podium 135 times in 2012, produced 54% of this result from racing days in World Tour races, whereas AG2R, a team at the bottom of the ranking, who reached the podium 30 times, put in 77% of these racing days on the Continentales circuit. This does not mean that the overall workload is lower, but it is maximally rationalized. In place of races and their constraints, the leading riders of the most successful teams have more specific, targeted preparation which can be organized with optimal scheduling of recuperation time. Unequal cultural resources within the team As well as being territorially anchored and having smaller budgets, the most vulnerable teams are also the ones least endowed

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with techno-scientific and organizational resources. In terms of organization, they leave it to the riders to work with a physical trainer, whereas the strongest teams internalize this function with a rider-coach ratio of five to one.8 In these less successful and more constrained teams, communication with the rider depends on the latter’s initiative, whereas the leading teams take the initiative. In a weaker team, for example, a directeur sportif who serves as a coach, without a specific training in the job, will remind the ten riders he is preparing: “Don’t forget that, if there are problems, maybe I’ll forget to call you for ten days because of work or for any reason, you have a telephone too, call me when you have a problem, because, I mean, I’m not. . . (. . .). Because I can’t know you have concerns when you are 500 kilometres away, so don’t hesitate.” (directeur sportif, ProTeam UCI, 2012). The consequence in this kind of team is that the riders organize themselves, like this rider employed by a team based 1000 kilometres from his home: “For example, I’m in a team in northern Europe but. . . if I’m ill, and I’m at home in the middle of France, I call the doctor. . . he didn’t do much for me. Then it’s up to me to make an appointment for a check-up and so on. But afterwards I dealt with the sports doctor back home, who looks after the footballers in town X. . . so it’s true I’ve got that doctor. I have my personal osteopath. I have my personal kinotherapist. I have the person who massages me at home. I have the person who rides the motor bike [for motorpaced training]. They’re. . . all people who are necessary in my profession but they. . . well, most are volunteers. (. . .) Because all the riders have to have a local doctor, because. . . the team doctor is 1,000 kilometres away” (ProTeam team rider, 2013). Some teams go even further in hands-off organization, making the riders pay for group sessions, although these are the only occasions when they are not left to themselves and when the team can evaluate them in terms of motivation, state of fatigue – and also possible use of substances: “There are lots of joint sessions but last time, for example, the team asked us to pay for it. I didn’t go, because. . . just the plane ticket and so on, was a third of my wages. . . it’s as if a company said to its employees: ‘You must attend this training course. But you pay for it all.’ That’s. . . So, no, in December I didn’t go. I thought it was out of order. I think we’re a team. . . for the Tour, and if you compare it with other sports. . . the World Tour is to cycling what the NBA is to basketball (. . .). It’s crazy. . . we don’t earn much for a start and then they want us to pay. . .” (ProTeam rider, 2013). Thus, these teams offer a working environment that is doubly precarious, both in terms of employment (short careers and short contracts) and of integration into a work collective (the riders are isolated 50% of the time). Yet the riders do not experience their work as a “disqualifying integration” (Paugam, 2000), because of their strong attachment to the sporting institution and its beliefs. In these same fragilized teams, the training culture is based on empiricism

8 The rider–coach ratio and the internationalisation of physical preparation are not solely determined by the team budgets. Some low-budget teams also manage the preparation of their riders effectively; the difference is also connected with the relation to a traditional cycling culture based more on experience of cycling than on specific qualifications for physical preparation.

and quantity: “I’m rather, you could say, ‘old school’. For example, I say ‘You must rack up the kilometres, keep pedalling, keep moving!”’ (Directeur sportif, ProTeam UCI, 2012). These team officials, themselves former riders, do not have levels of technical training that would make it easy for them to adopt new “techno-scientific” methods: “For my riders, I just look at the number of hours spent on the saddle, and also the intensity. Beyond that, I can’t do it precisely because I don’t have the time and the competence for that. For example, I’ve no idea what is meant by ten minutes at 420 watts with a 400 watt threshold. I can’t analyse that kind of data. So I don’t use it, and I think the best thing to go by is the number of hours spent on the saddle.” The most successful teams, operating on a techno-scientific model, can more easily identify and manage their riders’ physical fragilities (fatigue, injuries, falls) or psychological fragilities (burn-out, loss of motivation, emotional stress) on the basis of very precise indicators on the parameters of training and recuperation. Thus, as one rider explained, the number of kilometres, the indicator of good training in traditional teams, is no longer used as a criterion of good preparation. The essential criterion here is power output, measured by a continuous measuring device generally mounted on the crank gear, the Schoberer Rad Meßtechnik (SRM): “The SRM is just so precise, it’s accurate to within a watt. It’s just a matter of knowing how many watts you can produce. There’s no grey area, it’s black and white. You know exactly how you are doing. For ten minutes, you produced this much power. Last month it was that much. You can measure it month by month” (ProTeam team rider, 2012). Teams organized according to the techno-scientific model thus respond better to the constraints of taking part in races without overworking their riders, whereas teams relying on experience and empiricism demand more of their riders without leaving them enough rest time. Because adequate recovery has a strong influence on riders’ performances, the differences observed in workloads, preparation methods and team organization take on considerable importance. When they are too demanding, they exhaust the riders and reduce their value on the labour market. But these methods can also incite them to take substances in order to keep going, albeit at the risk of being banned after a positive test. Recuperation is all the more important since, when badly managed, it leads to moments of fragility (under-performance, injuries, loss of motivation) which encourage doping (Bilard, Ninot, & Hauw, 2011). The case of a rider who had gained six kilos did not immediately alert his managers, who, despite the late identification of the problem and the manifest lack of proper supervision, then put pressure on him to lose weight: “Yeah, that’s not what I was told: ‘OK, I’ve put on three or four kilos, I shouldn’t have, but I’m going to get back on track.’ That’s why we called him in and said to him: ‘You come to us, we’ll talk face to face with the doctor,’ and from then on it was better” (directeur sportif, ProTeam UCI, 2012). The fact that he returned to his initial weight in a very short time also did not alert the managers. A week after the interview in which this story was told to us, the rider in question was declared EPO positive. This case is exemplary of a fragilization through lack of supervision, an incapacity to identify problems in time, and then the inappropriate application of pressure.


Conclusion: a contractual governance of prevention? One of the alternatives proposed to a moralizing prevention strategy which ineffectively targets the young, is the liberalization of doping. It does indeed seem tempting to draw inspiration from policies for the prevention of the use of social drugs which would encourage the regulation of doping through links established with users (Kayser & Smith, 2008). But the parallel is risky in as much as the contexts, not as a structural force but rather as “the myriad associations by which ‘societies’ are created in everyday life” (Duff, 2011), are very different. Substance use in sport can yield considerable income and strong social recognition, whereas ‘traditional’ drugs are expensive and bring little external recognition. The data collected in our survey makes it possible to formulate a new anti-doping policy which corresponds to the explanations identified for recourse to doping. The first proposal is to decrease the organizational risk of doping which is generated by the relative inability of the teams to detect and manage the riders’ moments of vulnerability. A possible response is to establish a minimum framework of organization. This would be based on a division of the tasks of sporting management, physical preparation and care; with a minimum ratio of seven riders to one of each type of supervisor (coach, doctor, directeur sportif) and a mechanism for communication and early warning on, and in liaison with, the riders. This framework can however only exist if there is a reform of the business model of the teams. Teams need to devote a greater proportion of their budget to supervision. There are three possible solutions: to reduce the weight of the riders’ payroll in the budget in order to increase the amount of money available to finance supervision; to increase the teams’ budgets with an unchanged rider payroll; or to reduce the number of riders per team with an unchanged overall budget. The second proposal is to diminish the risk factor of a training practice based purely on quantity of work. All teams should practise analytical training based on the monitoring of performance and in particular of power data, combined with individual planning, organized by the team, and a manageable workload of a maximum of 70–80 days’ racing. This target would require organizing a general enhancement of the competences of the team supervisors (coaches, directeurs sportifs and doctors) through a training system and liaison with specialists in the training sciences. For the traditionalist in cycling this would mean a real cultural conversion, even if among the most traditionalist riders there is a resistance to the importation of scientific knowledge that probably exceeds their relatively low cultural capital. The third proposal is to challenge the precariousness of the riders’ careers and also that of the teams. To address the former, teams would need to be encouraged to set up mechanisms to reduce the effects of precariousness: promotion of dual vocational projects (in sport and outside sport); and linking the teams to training structures (“Farm Teams,” a voluntary structure functioning as a training centre). As regards the precariousness experienced by teams, there could be a twofold answer. First, it seems necessary to diversify teams’ resources by means of a reversion of media rights, on the model of football for example. Cycling is the only broadcast sport in which the organizers enjoy the almost exclusive benefit of the media rights at the expense of the athletes who are themselves coproducers of the commercialized spectacle. Such a reversion would have the effect of freeing team budgets from exclusive dependence on capricious sponsors. The second answer would be to devise a new system for accreditation of ProTeams and Continentales professionnelles teams that would no longer depend solely on sporting criteria but also on a specification constructed with the

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aid of this study in the light of the different characteristics of the teams. These measures can have an influence on all cyclists. However, to be realistic, it will be more effective on cyclists who have not been previously socialized into pharmacology and doping. The favourable environment of a team for those strongly socialized into doping will only slow down their propensity to dope. It also means that it would be more effective for the “doping of the poor,” the isolated cyclists who need drugs in order to keep their jobs. One can be more sceptical on the more elaborate scientific doping that has marked the recent history of cycling. That is why these measures also require two conditions to be meaningful. The first is that they be applied together, because they correspond to the systemic functioning of the riders’ ecosystem, including its structural aspects. The second is that they require the actors to show a strong resolve to resist doping. As the case of Lance Armstrong’s teams has shown, the most rational team, the one most advanced in terms of organization or preparation, can also be the one most advanced in setting up organized doping and managing to conceal it. All our proposals therefore only make sense if the actors commit themselves to a new way of producing performance and share information so that external actors can identify improbable performances. Observations show significant advances over past years in which doping corresponded to a practice orchestrated by the team managers. On the one hand this has happened because the traditional actors are changing their practices in view of the considerable economic and symbolic risks entailed by a doping scandal, and also because of the daily discomfort of a functioning that depends upon concealment. The sanctions mechanism is essential as a deterrent. On the other hand, the teams’ professional culture is changing: new teams, run by actors external to cycling, are bringing in greater competences and disseminating more innovative practices. Other, older teams are also incorporating new external competences. However, the capacity to innovate and to involve scientists and physicians is always ambivalent; it can also increase the risk of doping as was the case in the past (Hoberman, 1992; Waddington & Smith, 2009). Public and other policies are increasingly being based on contractual governance. It is necessary not only to set objectives for the beneficiaries to achieve but also to create conditions in which they are achievable. This contractual approach applied to cycling must lead to the recognition that inadequate resources and defective organizations make it extremely difficult to remain professional without doping. It is not a question of removing the responsibility of the rider who has recourse to doping, but it seems essential to understand that some conditions of the production of performance make a ‘moral’ choice extremely difficult. As a consequence, rethinking anti-doping policies presupposes that in addition to deterrent sanctions and education, account needs to be taken of the conditions of exercise of the occupation. This approach is based on the idea of a “contractual governance” (Vincent-Jones, 2000) of the activity, not only with the ultimate offenders, as in the case of drug users (Bacon & Seddon, 2013; Crawford, 2003), but also with their employers. Teams therefore need to be given the means to offer conditions of work, employment and organization that limit the risks of doping. This contractual governance of anti-doping would thus lead the authorities to apply sanctions to actors who have every means of doing their job with probity because they have been freed from the constraints weighing on their activity, and to sanction more fairly those riders who, in these more favourable conditions, still opt for doping. The UCI seems to be receptive to this new way of implementing anti-doping policies and to support the negotiation with the organizers and the teams on these new rules for organization, work and employment within the teams. However, political and economic considerations of the actors may still interfere.

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