At the 2022 Winter Olympic Games in Beijing, many figure skating victories have been soured by controversies surrounding doping by athletes representing the Russian Olympic Committee (ROC) and discussions of fairness within the scoring system. Skaters and fans alike have been disillusioned with the state of the sport as technical achievements seem to be superseding artistry and actual enjoyment. 

Including a historic quadruple Axel attempt from Japan’s Hanyu Yuzuru, a total of 49 quadruple jumps were attempted on February 10 by the 24 men who qualified for the final free skate event. This marks the Beijing Olympics as the height of what has been referred to as the “quad revolution,” a frenzy of technically-oriented advancements that has characterized trends within the sport over the past decade. Only 12 years ago, in the 2010 Vancouver Games, 11 quads were attempted in the men’s event, only three of which were awarded positive grades of execution (GOE). In the four years between the Pyeongchang and Beijing games, the quad revolution has spread from the men’s discipline to the women’s. In the women’s free skate on February 17, the three girls representing the ROC attempted ten quads between them; another five girls attempted triple Axels, making for a total of 15 exceptionally difficult jumps – known colloquially as “ultra-C elements”. The appeal of these ultra-C elements is in their high value as technical elements, with base values ranging from 9.50 to 11.50 points; when completed successfully, a single jumping pass can be worth over 20 points. 

The quad revolution has resulted in a “seismic shift” within the discipline, widening the gap between the weight given to technicality and artistry in scoring. While the average base technical value has skyrocketed thanks to the increased frequency of quads, the program components scoring system has remained the same. The two supposedly separate aspects that constitute scoring in figure skating have never been this dichotomized, and many have expressed concerns that a preference for quads is alienating the sport from its artistic side. As this year’s Olympics have progressed, it has become clear that the consequences extend far beyond the decline of artistry. Existing problems such as athlete safety, fairness and equity within the sport and its scoring system, and institutional abuse of underage athletes by their coaching teams are far exacerbated by the increasing fixation on ultra-C elements, culminating in the bittersweet and tragic events this year’s women’s singles events have witnessed.

Technicality versus artistry

The scoring system in figure skating is divided into two scores: one for technical elements and another for program components. The designated technical panel notes the technical elements as they are performed by the skater to assign the appropriate base value for each element. Among other responsibilities, the technical panel examines the elements and decides whether they meet International Skating Union (ISU) requirements; for example, full base value can only be awarded to jumps if they are fully rotated. Meanwhile, nine ISU certified judges on the judging panel award each element with a GOE mark, ranging from -5 to +5. Discarding the lowest and highest values, the remaining seven GOE marks are averaged according to the ISU’s scale of values for the total score of the element.

While the technical element scores can be broken down into the specific elements, program component scores are meant to reflect the quality of performance throughout the program. Program component scoring is divided into five areas – skating skills, transitions, performance, composition, and interpretation –, each graded on a scale of 1 to 10 by the judging panel in 0.25 point increments, before being averaged for an overall component score, in the same manner as GOE marks for individual elements. The latter three of these categories are, by design, largely subjective aesthetic judgments. Performance marks are awarded for the skaters’ perceived emotional and physical engagement with the program and presentation to the audience. Composition refers to the arrangement and distribution of elements within the program, while interpretation scores reflect the musicality of the program. 

The perceived dichotomy between technical excellence and artistry is due in part to the division of the scoring system. While there are clear guidelines for awarding positive or negative GOE according to the technical guidelines of the elements, the criteria for program component scores remain nebulous. It is unclear, for example, what differentiates an 8.25 program component score from an 8.50 score, as scoring is mostly entrusted to the judges’ experience and discretion. Even the more easily quantifiable components, such as skating skills and transitions – referring respectively to the speed and edge quality of skating, as well as to the complexity of the choreography between technical elements –, are lacking in clarity and specificity. 

While the technical and performance scores are supposed to balance one another, failure to standardize program component scoring gives more weight to technical element scores. Most skaters thus benefit more from focusing on heavier-weighted, more technically demanding elements such as quads rather than on artistic expression, or even other lower-scored elements like step sequences, choreographic sequences, and spins. In the past few Olympics, it has become clear that this is especially the case for skaters who represent a domestic federation with more political power in the ISU.

Flaws within the scoring system: national bias and subjectivity 

The figure skating judging system has long been the subject of criticism for its overt national bias and subjectivity. In the 2014 Sochi Olympics, Russian figure skater Adelina Sotnikova’s victory over defending champion Kim Yuna of South Korea was the focus of public outcry when Sotnikova was seen embracing a Russian judge on the panel after her performance. Scoring is a site of institutional power within the sport; while most judges have been found to favour skaters from their own country, judges from domestic federations with more political power in the ISU (such as the Figure Skating Federation of Russia and the United States Figure Skating Association) tend to do so more easily than their counterparts from other federations. During the Pyeongchang Olympics, Chinese judges Huang Feng and Chen Weiguang were temporarily suspended for nationalistic bias; American Lorrie Parker, notably, was not.

While individual judges are investigated and punished for perceived bias, the flaws within the scoring system themselves remain easily exploitable by politically powerful federations. At the Olympics, where judges have to evaluate 24 to 30 skaters in succession, it is extremely difficult to maintain a consistent standard of judging even throughout the same event. Especially considering that the same judges are responsible for paying close attention to the execution of each individual element, it is almost unrealistic to expect them to be closely evaluating the overall level of performance throughout each program in order to fairly award program component scores. Furthermore, judges are mainly selected on a “volunteer” basis. In exchange for judging some of the field’s most prestigious competitions, they are offered a per diem of typically less than $100. While their expenses for the trip tend to be covered, “many [actually] lose money because they have to take vacation from their day jobs.” It is therefore not a surprise that judges can be easily swayed by the money and politics within domestic federations or the international field; the 2002 judge bribing scandal is only one publicized example of the easily exploitable flaws in the ISU judging system.

Athlete safety and the future of figure skating

While neither a technically-oriented layout nor the support of a powerful domestic federation is enough to skew the results of the sport on their own, they are enough to threaten the credibility and integrity of figure skating. The case of the ongoing ladies’ event, especially amidst controversies concerning 15-year-old Kamila Valieva of the ROC’s testing positive for a banned heart medication after her participation in the team event, calls into question not only the fairness of the sport but the safety of athletes and the toll that the pursuit of technical excellence takes on their bodies. Valieva’s positive doping test and the ensuing leniency of the ruling by the Court of Arbitration for Sport (CAS) which allowed her to participate in the individual event are testaments to the failure of the figure skating community not only to protect underage athletes in abusive relationships with their coaching teams but to allow other competitors to push themselves to injury – and, in the worst cases, early retirement – trying to compete with athletes who skate with the backing of powerful domestic federations.

Like the failures of the scoring system, this cannot be seen as the fault of individual athletes or judges. Valieva, who finished in fourth place after an error-riddled program in Thursday’s free skate, is coached by Eteri Tutberidze, along with the ROC’s two other representatives – gold medalist Anna Scherbachova and silver medalist Alexandra Trusova, both 17 years of age. Tutberidze, who was awarded Coach of the Year at the ISU Skating Awards in 2020, is known for her demanding and harsh training conditions. While her methods consistently produce athletes who dominate the discipline – team gold medalist Yulia Lipnitskaia in 2014; individual gold and silver medalists Alina Zagitova and Evgenia Medvedeva in 2018; and Scherbachova, Trusova, and Valieva in 2022 –, her students are rarely able to sustain their success for more than a few competitive seasons.

Under Tutberidze’s tutelage, Trusova, known as the “quad queen,” landed her first quadruple jumps in competition in 2018, becoming the second woman to do so at only 13 years of age – the first in 15 years since Ando Miki’s historical first quadruple Salchow in 2002. A short four years later, Tutberidze was at the forefront of the technically demanding quad revolution in women’s figure skating. Of the 18 women who have ratified quads since Trusova as of January 2022, seven have been Tutberidze’s students, the youngest among them doing so at 12 years of age. Once they reach their “Eteri expiration date” of around 17 years, Tutberidze’s students’ struggles with eating disorders and career-ending injuries make it impossible for them to continue in competition. Liptnitskaia retired in 2017, at the age of 19, while neither Zagitova nor Medvedeva have been able to compete since 2019, when they were 17 and 19 years old. The suspected use of the banned drug trimetazidine found in Valieva’s system is weight control through diuretics. 

Officially considered a legally “protected person” at 15 years of age, Valieva was deemed by CAS still eligible to compete, with the caveat that the medal and flower ceremonies would be cancelled if she were to make it to the podium. Tutberidze’s methods have long been an open secret within the sport, and Russian athletes have a long history of systemic doping; a formal investigation of Eteri Tutberidze’s coaching team has yet to be carried out, and a child will likely bear the brunt of the blame for enduring brutal methods of the coaching team supposedly responsible for her athletic safety.

At just 15 years of age, Valieva’s career should only be beginning, but precedent suggests that her tearful performance on February 17 will likely be her last Olympic appearance. Knowing the circumstances and trajectory of the sport, teammates Scherbachova and Trusova were unable to enjoy their success on the podium as well, a miserable conclusion to an event characterized by fear and uncertainty. The quad revolution has often been praised for pushing the sport forward, but it bears questioning whether this evolution is worth continually sacrificing the integrity of sport, not to mention the safety and longevity of athletes’ careers. Though International Olympic Committee (IOC) president Thomas Bach noted the behaviour of Tutberidze and the rest of Valieva’s entourage as “chilling” and “disturbing,” the IOC has yet to take significant action regarding the CAS ruling. Whether figure skating has a healthy future will be determined by the national and international bodies that govern it. These must decide whether they will endeavour to address the rampant corruption that continually reproduces institutional abuse and “irreparable harm” within the sport.

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* names have been changed to protect anonymity

In September, the John Howard Society of Canada sent a letter to Edmonton’s Police Chief pressing for a formal investigation into internal conditions at Edmonton Institution – also known as Edmonton Max – the city’s maximum security men’s facility built to detain around 300 prisoners. According to the society’s executive director, Catherine Latimer, reports from inmates detail “maltreatment in medical care and in the use of solitary confinement” by facility staff and management – in some cases, staff have withheld medication from prisoners. In the past, Edmonton Max has been reported to deny inmates of their prescribed medication in a rampant display of “corruption” and “significant workplace dysfunction,” according to those investigating the institution.

The John Howard Society’s letter called to attention once again the inhumane conditions of the institution. Following the release of this letter, the Daily spoke with Sherri Maier, president and founder of Beyond Prison Walls Canada, as well as several inmates* of Edmonton Max, who provided a more in-depth account of the abuse of misplaced medical authority by prison staff and management. Among others, the prescriptions being withheld include Wellbutrin, Vyvanse, as well as critical diabetic and asthmatic medication.

Solitary confinement and worsening mental health

Though Correctional Service Canada (CSC) phased out solitary confinement – referred to as “administrative segregation” – in favour of structured intervention units (SIUs), Maier expresses that isolation periods in Edmonton Max SIUs have been inhumanely prolonged. Despite CSC regulations which state that inmates in SIUs are entitled to a minimum of four hours per day outside their cell, inmates in Edmonton Max are getting as little as 30 minutes per day for weeks on end. Additionally, although the CSC requires daily health checks and a mental health assessment every 28 days for prisoners in SIUs, sources the Daily have spoken with say that healthcare is extremely inaccessible at the Edmonton Max.

Maier stresses the resounding impact this lack of mobility has had on inmates’ mental conditions. Further, she emphasizes the inaccessibility of essential healthcare services that further exacerbate existing mental health conditions. The already limited amount of doctor visits is controlled by Edmonton Max management, who frequently and arbitrarily “cut [inmates] off” and deny them visits that might allow them to seek help. 

As remote consultations have become increasingly popular as a medical practice during the COVID-19 pandemic, Maier believes video or phone calls to be potential alternatives for inmates to better connect with mental health professionals or advocates. When psychologists offered remote services to Edmonton Max inmates, however, management refused to cooperate with these requests. This denial, to Maier, is an active refusal to accommodate inmates: “This is something that seems to be impossible in the penitentiary. It’s like they don’t want to offer things to help them.” 

On one occasion, Maier says, one of the inmates, Richard*, committed acts of self-harm in front of guards during a visitation call, and only then did the warden agree to let him see mental health professionals. “You almost have to go to that sort of extreme in order to get any kind of mental health help,” she added, “and [he] still never really got full mental health help.” Following this, management immediately disconnected the call and proceeded to lock the inmate in an SIU. Three to four days later, Maier says, “a [psychologist] came in and asked if he was okay, he said no, and then [management] let him back in a cell in the regular unit.”

Withheld medication

According to Maier, this practice of withholding medication is actively dangerous for inmate health. Wellbutrin and Vyvanse are often prescribed to the inmates at dosages which range from 500-1100 milligrams, per Maier. To prevent withdrawal, the only safe way of decreasing intake of antidepressants such as Wellbutrin is through close consultation with a doctor, incrementally and gradually reducing intake over the course of several weeks. Instead, says Maier, inmates are being “completely cut off […] right off the bat” by facility nurses and upper management who are not medically licensed to do so, an especially dangerous and irresponsible practice given the inmates’ high average prescribed dosage levels.

This has resulted in further worsening health conditions for inmates, including Jack*, a diabetic inmate who was prescribed insulin. In an interview with the Daily, he attested to the nurses’ dangerous negligence in bringing his medication at an appropriate time. According to the inmate, “it took [sic] me having two diabetic seizures before they finally started giving me [medication].” John Howard Society’s letter in September also mentioned claims from inmates that they were also being denied access to medication prescribed to treat other serious health conditions, such as asthma.

Facility staff have still not addressed concerns

Reportedly, Edmonton Max’s practice of restricting access to medication for inmates is largely motivated by a concern for cost by cutting back on medical expenses, or under the pretext of preventing the recreational circulation of drugs. In the John Howard Society’s letter, however, Latimer added that “in some cases it looks like [staff] would just do it as sort of an informal way of punishing the prisoner.”

Bill*, an Edmonton Max inmate, adds that he has been waiting for a response from upper management since June. According to him, the facility’s chief of healthcare at the time agreed to advocate for his cause when he sought help, stating that “there is no reason why you shouldn’t be on a non-narcotic medication that is actually pretty cheap to prescribe compared to the […] medications that inmates abuse.” Though he was promised action by the end of September, he had not yet received a response from management at the time of his interview with the Daily.

“There are so many inconsistencies,” he says, especially with the developing conditions of the COVID-19 pandemic, with employees claiming to be short-staffed, or that “[their] arms are tied.” Though the CSC has stated that they are reviewing the allegations, Edmonton Max staff continue to leverage medication against inmates.

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“I’m always open to talking with people,” Dixon said when asked why he decided to come to Montreal. “Particularly young people, sharing the history and experiences that I have gone through, especially experiences about the Black Panther Party, the organizing, and the work that we did.”

He added that he had been invited to speak at McGill University a couple years prior, and expressed disappointment in the fact that “they wouldn’t let me in because they said I had some criminality on my record.”

In addition to establishing the Seattle Chapter of the Black Panther Party in 1968 and co-founding the University of Washington Black Student Union (BSU), Dixon had a part in the Black Panther Party’s establishment of the Free Breakfast for Children Program as well as the organization of other community-based initiatives.

The Daily had the opportunity to speak with Dixon about his upcoming event, his experiences with the Black Panther Party, the importance of community-based organization, and his hopes for anti-oppressive movements in the future.

McGill Daily (MD): Could you speak more on the details surrounding your talk, as well as how mobilizing and organizing at the community level is important to anti-racist movements, especially with respect to the recent surge in mutual aid programs?

Aaron Dixon (AD): I was asked to speak about those particular subject matters, and I think it’s important because we were able to accomplish a lot with our survival programs. As an organization, we were always changing our tactics regarding how the government was responding to us. Initially, the Black Panther Party was talking about changing our government and society, but we realized that the people really weren’t ready for a revolution. We also observed that the people in the community – the people that we were fighting for – were struggling with a lot of different issues, including providing breakfast for their kids, struggling with medical care […] and so we started implementing the Free Breakfast Programs, the medical clinic, the legal clinic, and a whole host of other programs.

We realized that the government and other agencies were not effective in implementing social services to the community, so we became an example of how to properly organize. We also wanted to [redirect] what our energy was particularly focused on, which was educating the people and serving the people.

Our whole struggle was based upon people, and fighting for the people. That’s why we turned to organizing the survival programs and opening our Free Breakfast Programs, medical clinics and all the other programs, because the push behind what the Black Panther Party was doing was in [our] love for the people, love for the community. That’s what our whole fight was based upon. How can you say that you’re for the people when you’re not helping the people in their day-to-day struggles? 

“Our whole struggle was based upon people, and fighting for the people.”

We opened up Breakfast Programs all across the country. In Seattle, we opened up five breakfast program locations. Very shortly, the Black Panther Party was feeding thousands of kids breakfast every morning. We knew the Breakfast Programs were successful when J. Edgar Hoover came out and said that they were the number one threat to the security of America. There were also Chapters where police came in with shotguns to prevent the kids from coming to the breakfast programs.

Very shortly after we started the Breakfast Program, we opened up free medical clinics, community-based medical clinics. We opened up thirteen free medical clinics all across the country, a free ambulance program in Winston-Salem and Harlem, and started the sickle cell anemia testing program, which became one of the first preventative medical programs in the country by testing thousands and thousands of kids throughout the country. We got a lot of love and support from the people when we started providing these very important programs to them.

“Very shortly, the Black Panther Party was feeding thousands of kids breakfast every morning.”

We were always told, “you know you’re doing your job when the pigs come out to attack you, and the people come up to defend you,” and that’s what happened. There were several places the Black Panther Party office was under attack – in Seattle, Chicago, L.A. – and the people came out to defend the Party. That’s because we were providing important services to the people.

Those programs were so valuable and so important that by 1974, the federal government allocated funds for those programs and made the Breakfast Program a national program that’s still in existence today, over 40 years later. Kids can go to school today and get free breakfast and lunch. That’s because of the work of the Black Panther Party.

The survival programs, Breakfast Programs, medical clinics are a service to people that we are remembered for. People still come up to us and thank us for treating them when they were kids. They’ll say, “thank you for providing breakfast for me when I was young.” 

MD: In what ways do you think current issues, such as the ongoing pandemic, have changed the anti-racist movement since your time as an active member of the Black Panther Party? In what ways would you say they’ve stayed the same?

AD: I think the pandemic […] has really exposed a lot of the conditions that people are subjected to here in America. It exposed the fact that people who don’t have full-time jobs – and even people who do have full-time jobs – aren’t able to afford medical coverage. It also exposed the fact that a lot of people who work [temp] jobs, or jobs that they do on their own without any company behind them – once those jobs don’t exist, then they have no way of getting any income. So, it exposed the tremendous amount of poverty and homelessness that exists in America.

It exposed the racism that exists in America even more, in terms of the number of COVID cases and deaths, who are largely poor people, people of colour, and people who faced other systemic issues which caused them to succumb to COVID.

“The one thing that COVID did was allow people to stop, think, and observe.“

Of course, you had [the death of] George Floyd, which happened while people were sitting at home. The one thing that COVID did was allow people to stop, think, and observe. And it gave them an opportunity for contemplation, which we don’t typically have time for – we’re always running from one thing to another. It gave us time to slow down and stop, and it took away the events that take a lot of our time, like sports and entertainment. Those things weren’t available to us, so we have more time to look at the news and see what was happening with George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and all the other people that were killed, that have been being killed [for] so long.

People began to realize that there really was something wrong with policing in America, and it also gave people an opportunity to go out and protest because a lot of people were off of work. So they had the time to spend to go out onto the streets, protest, demonstrate, and demand that conditions change.

MD: Could you speak more about organizing with the Black Student Union at the University of Washington and about what activism looks like within academic institutions?

AD: We organized the first Black Student Union at the University of Washington, and from there we began to demand Black and ethnic studies programs. This had a spreading effect, because it also led to Latino studies, Native American studies, women’s studies… A lot of people don’t realize that these Black studies programs opened up a whole avenue for oppressed people.

This started in San Francisco State University with the Black students demanding Black studies programs. A lot of those people who were involved in those demonstrations in San Francisco State were members of the Black Panther Party, just as was the case at UCLA, just as was the case at the University of Washington, and at other universities. A lot of students joined the Black Panther Party around that time. Once they got tuned in to the Black Panther Party and what we were about, a lot of those students dropped out of school – I was one of them.

“[…] these Black studies programs opened up a whole avenue for oppressed people.“

At that time, there were a lot of faculty that were supportive of what we were doing, and so the campuses became a place that students not only went to to get educated, but also a place where students began to exchange ideas about society, while beginning to develop plans of implementing things and reaching out to people in the community.

By the 1980s, there was a movement to stymie that, as college institutions were pushed to become more profit-oriented and began to remove some of those ethnic studies programs. They were no longer hiring radical faculty. They began to change because they understood how important colleges and universities were in terms of developing a political awareness among students, so that’s what led them to try to change the direction of what colleges and universities could do on a political level.

MD: What are you hoping to see from movements toward Black liberation in the future?

AD: It’s not just about Black liberation, it’s about liberation of all oppressed people. When the Black Panther Party started out, most of us were Black nationalists. We had a Black nationalist concept, and our slogan was Black Power. But very early on, as the party began to evolve, we understood that it was all oppressed people that the struggle was all about, and so I’m hoping that this movement will evolve to [a point] where it recognizes that. After this past election, one of the things we’ve learned is there’s a lot of work and organizing that still has to be done.

“It’s not just about Black liberation, it’s about liberation of all oppressed people.”

This is something the Black Panther Party did when we started the first Rainbow Coalition in 1969 in Chicago. We had a coalition with the Puerto Rican community in the Young Lords, and with the poor white community in the Patriot Party. One thing we learned in the Black Panther Party is that […] everything is in a constant state of flux. As a result of that, the Black Panther Party was always changing, because we were always evolving.

It’s my hope that this movement also understands that it has to be an evolving movement, that it has to be constantly growing and changing with the dynamics, and that we have to bring in more people. This is my hope – that this movement becomes a movement of all oppressed people throughout the whole world.

Black Panther Party Seattle Chapter Captain Aaron Dixon “in Montreal” will be taking place online on Monday, November 16, at 6PM EST. Pre-registration is required.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

The post “Our Whole Struggle Was Based Upon Fighting for the People” appeared first on The McGill Daily.

Therein lies the first problem with placing our hopes and expectations in mainstream representation: no single group of people exists as a monolith, so no single portrayal is complex enough to tackle the breadth of their reality. Many calls for representation on social media tend to emphasize the “normalization” of a particular lived experience. You can find demands on Twitter for “normalizing Asian leads” in movies, and articles about how a series like Disney Channel’s Andi Mack (2017-2019) is “normalizing Asian identity.” But how can one depiction actually help normalize the diversity of experience within an entire population? Representation cannot be deemed “good” or “bad” purely through the criterion of accuracy, since what is “accurate” varies from one individual to the next.

This brings us to the issue of authenticity. Without writers and creators who have lived the experiences they are portraying, characters belonging to minority groups become shallow caricatures of the cultures and people they intend to represent. Take the Nickelodeon animated series Avatar: The Last Airbender (2005-2008). The show’s premise draws from various nebulously Asian and Indigenous cultures, and the showrunners have been praised for “dream[ing] up a world free of whiteness.” Still, the series features a nearly all-white panel of writers and voice actors; the nonwhite world is simply used as a narrative tool by the show’s white male creators, who have little interest in accurately reflecting cultural authenticity. Avatar ultimately presents a reductive portrayal of a broad demographic, while preventing diverse creators from telling stories based on their own backgrounds.

It’s also crucial to contextualize the notion of “representation” within the material conditions under which art is produced and received. For instance, the message of a successful film like Bong Joon-Ho’s Parasite (2019), which critiques late-stage capitalism, is somewhat undermined when its writers and producers receive a large amount of wealth for their work. An actor in such a film may be decorated in accolades for their uber-convincing performance. But what part of this recognition goes toward a material improvement in the conditions of the communities the film is supposedly made for? Inclusion and “representation” in an industry that’s predicated on the exploitation of vulnerable workers must be questioned, even when media is superficially deemed “progressive.” Negotiating our relationship with the art that we love and the system under which it’s created is important, whether it’s a feel-good romantic comedy, or a serious indie film. We must engage critically with everything that we choose to consume.

Fiction does not exist in a vacuum. Media shapes how we see ourselves, and representation plays a major part in that. While inclusive art is necessary for both consumers and artists, representation is not the end-all, be-all solution to social inequality. There is no such thing as perfect representation. And as bleak as this outlook may be, I believe that accepting that all representation is, to some extent, “bad,” or at the very least, not good enough, will allow for more productive attempts to mobilize toward an artistic future that is truly inclusive.

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