Winter Olympics: Heraskevych helmet ban brings sporting “neutrality” into sharp focus
By Roddy Cairns - Posted 13 February 2026
The Winter Olympics in Milan-Cortina has had its fair share of twists and turns already, with plenty of dramatic storylines on the snow and ice (including Scotland’s Kirsty Muir, Jen Dodds and Bruce Mouat all falling agonisingly short of medals in the slopestyle skiing and mixed doubles curling respectively). However, there has also been considerable controversy in the background, with the International Olympic Committee having banned Ukrainian skeleton pilot Vladyslav Heraskevych for his insistence on wearing a particular helmet which the organisation had attempted to ban.
This is not the only controversy in the skeleton competition, but (unlike Team GB’s failed attempts to convince the Court of Arbitration for Sport to overturn a ban on a new helmet design which departed from the standard shape) it has nothing to do with the sport itself. Instead, the offending element of Heraskevych’s helmet is the images portrayed on it of Ukrainian athletes killed during Russia’s invasion of his homeland, which are said to violate the event’s rules on political neutrality.
Political Neutrality
The world of sport has a long history of trying, and arguably failing, to steer clear of matters of a political nature, with International Sport Federations and national Sport Governing Bodies often containing statutory rules that are aimed at enshrining political neutrality. The Olympics is no different, with the IOC Olympic Charter’s Fifth Fundamental Principle of Olympism saying: “Recognising that sport occurs within the framework of society, sports organisations within the Olympic Movement shall apply political neutrality”.
This stance is controversial – academics James and Grix argue that the Olympics “is the most quintessentially political sporting event the world has ever known”, providing examples of political engagement by the IOC to back up that position: the recognition of disputed states (East Germany, Taiwan), the active promotion of laissez-faire economics, the platforming of particular political ideologies through granting of host status, and the forced creation of Olympic laws. Even the longtime IOC president Thomas Bach recognised the political dimension of the organisation he led for 12 years, saying in 2014: “In the past, some have said that sport has nothing to do with politics, or they have said that sport has nothing to do with money or business. And this is just an attitude which is wrong and which we cannot afford anymore. We are living in the world”. Despite these comments, the constitutional position of the IOC does not reflect Bach’s position, with political neutrality still firmly enshrined.
This ideal of neutrality is similarly foisted onto the Olympics’ competitors, through Rule 50(2) of the Olympic Charter. This provision, which applies to all competitors, states that “no kind of demonstration or political, religious or racial propaganda is permitted in any Olympic sites, venues or other areas.” The accompanying bye-law makes clear that this applies to “any article of clothing or equipment worn or used” by an Olympic athlete – hence Heraskevych’s helmet is covered.
Rule 50 is supplemented by a set of “Athlete Expression Guidelines” which are specific to the Milano-Cortina games. These state that “expressions [of athletes’ views] are not permitted…during official ceremonies…during competition on the filed of play; [or] in the Olympic village”. Having initially claimed that the disqualification was due to Rule 50(2), there has been some belated suggestion by the IOC that Heraskevych’s ban in fact relates only to these guidelines and Rule 40.2 (which protects freedom of expression) – but this makes little constitutional sense, given the guidelines are clearly designed to supplement Rule 50 (indeed, the Paris 2024 version was called the “Rule 50 Guidelines”). In the context, this appears to be an attempt by the IOC to doge some of the difficult questions which come with the Rule 50(2) exclusion of ‘political’ demonstrations, as discussed in this blog post.
The longstanding problem with Rule 50(2) rule (and others like it) relates to what exactly constitutes a “political” expression. Supporters of Heraskevych would argue, with some justification, that there is nothing political about commemorating individuals who have been killed during the invasion of their country – individuals who most likely held differing political opinions to one another. The gesture, their logic goes, is simply a commemoration of the war dead, with no political stance taken.
The status of the poppy
A similar controversy took place in football in 2016, when the football associations of Scotland, England, Wales and Northern Ireland were fined by FIFA for displaying the poppy during World Cup qualifying matches played on or near Armistice Day – an action which FIFA considered to constitute the display of a “political or religious symbol”, in contravention of FIFA’s rules. The football associations firmly disagreed with that position, with Scottish FA Chief Executive Stewart Regan arguing “the poppy is not a political statement…it’s a symbol that’s worn in remembrance to those who have lost their lives in war and it’s a mark of respect” and the Royal British Legion similarly stating “we see no reason why the poppy should be banned from players’ shirts as it is not a political symbol.”
Ultimately, something of a compromise position was reached, with IFAB releasing Circular 11/2017 which provided some additional clarity to the relevant Law 4. This guidance recognised the difficulty in defining what constituted a “political” slogan/statement/image, and reiterated that it remained a breach of the rules to commemorate “any specific political act/event”, but it did carve out the possibility of “commemorating a significant national or international event”, provided that in doing so the party wearing the slogan/statement/image took into consideration the “sensibilities” of the opposition, their fans and the general public. The Scottish FA issued a statement in which it welcomed the “clarity” brought by the new guidance, and stated its intention (alongside the other home nation FAs) to seek permission from FIFA and opponents to wear poppy armbands in future matches around Armistice Day.
Previous instances related to the invasion of Ukraine
Of course, while the poppy controversy relates to a war that ended over 80 years ago, Heraskevych’s helmet relates to one that is ongoing, with people of all ages continuing to be killed on a daily basis. There would be no possibility, for example, of Russia agreeing to the display of anything related to the war by Ukrainian sportspeople - as seen in 2021, when Russia submitted a compliant to UEFA because Ukraine wore a kit containing an outline of Ukraine’s sovereign territory, including regions Russia had illegally annexed (ultimately, UEFA ruled in favour of Ukraine, holding that the map was not political – but insisting that the Ukrainians replace the “clearly political” slogan ‘Glory to our Heroes’ with the “generic and non-political phrase” “Glory to Ukraine”).
Even just looking at the context of the Russian invasion of Ukraine, we see a marked inconsistency in how neutrality rules have been applied. At the last Winter Olympics (Beijing 2022), Heraskevych himself was involved in a similar situation, when he held up a sign that read “No war in Ukraine”, printed on a Ukrainian flag, in the days immediately prior to Russia launching its full-scale invasion of the country. On that occasion, the IOC decided not to take any disciplinary action, their spokesperson saying only “We have spoken with the athlete. This was a general call for peace. For the IOC the matter is closed.” In other words, it was decided that the sign did not constitute a political demonstration, nor political propaganda.
It is difficult to ascertain how the helmet images could be seen to go further than that previous display – whilst it is up for debate whether pacifism is a political position, it seems to fit that description more comfortably than a pure commemoration of the dead. In that context, it is hard to see how Heraskevych could be said to have breached Rule 50(2) now with his helmet, if his actions in 2022 were not sufficient to trigger the same provision.
Just a few weeks after Herakevych’s 2022 display, a Russian athlete faced an altogether different outcome for quite a similar action. Ivan Kuliak won a bronze medal in the Gymnastics Apparatus World Cup in Doha, and when on the ppodium alongside Ukrainian gold medal winner Illia Kovtun he displayed a letter ‘Z’ in tape on is chest. The letter Z has become a pro-war symbol among Russians and a reference to their invasion of Ukraine, and this was seen as a clearly pro-war message. Kuliak was banned for 12 months on the basis that this was a political demonstration which breached the statutes (and various supplementary codes) of the governing Fédération Internationale de Gymnastique (FIG).
Whilst the FIG and IOC are separate organisations, the contrast in approach here was noticeable and rather stark. Whatever our personal sympathies might be towards one message over the other, it is a little uncomfortable to define a purely pro-war message such as Kuliak’s as being any more or less political than a purely anti-war message such as Herakevych’s. This perhaps illustrates the quandary the International Sports federations are in – if they allow messages they approve of and ban those they disapprove of, they are themselves taking something of a political position. James and Grix have argued that this is exactly what the IOC do, stating that “Rule 50 is used by the IOC to promote and preserve its own ideal and interpretation of what constitutes both political neutrality and actions that are political, and therefore prohibited.” Seen in that light, the decision now to punish Herakevych for his latest “demonstration” could be seen as the IOC more evenly applying its own rules, punishing an expression with which it may sympathise, but which it sees as a clear breach of Rule 50.
The right to appeal to CAS
Decisions of the IOC are subject to a right of appeal to the Court of Arbitration for Sport, and in particular where a decision is in connection with the Olympic Games that right exists under Rule 61(2) of the Olympic Charter. CAS operates a temporary “Ad-Hoc division” throughout the course of every Olympic Games, with arbitrators on hand to rapidly determine any disputes (the idea being that disputes can be determined in time to allow athletes to receive a decision before their event takes place). Such Ad-Hoc divisions are governed by their own special set of rules (the ‘Arbitration Rules applicable to the CAS ad hoc division for the Olympic Games’) and operate on a vastly expedited timeframe.
The first step is for the athlete to file an application in the form set out in Art 10 of the Arbitration Rules, following which a Panel is put together to consider the matter and a hearing organised “on very short notice immediately upon receipt of the application” (Art 15(c)). If Herakevych was to issue such an appeal, the key question before the Panel would be a limited, if complicated, one: do the images of fallen athletes on his helmet constitute a political demonstration and/or political propaganda? If it does not, they would likely find that the IOC were wrong to ban the athlete under Rule 50. Due to the expedited nature of the proceedings, Herakevych would have to receive an answer within 24 hours of the lodging of the application – that efficient approach demonstrating the value of the CAS Ad-Hoc division approach.
The difficulty for Herakevych is that even with that expedited timetable, the window for him to compete in this Games is either closed or very rapidly closing. Heat 1 of the individual Men’s Skeleton took place at 8.30am on the morning of Thursday 12th February, just shortly after he was informed of his ban, with Heat 2 later that day – meaning that by the time of writing he has already missed two of the heats. Heats 3 and 4 take place on the evening of Friday 13 February, with the medals decided by Friday evening. The relatively wide discretion in remedy that the CAS Panel have would perhaps allow them to come up with some sort of remedy that allowed him to ‘catch up’ with Thursday’s missed heats (or possibly even to delay the rest of the competition pending resolution), but of course any such decision would need to be proportionate and not unfairly disruptive to the other competitors, and it is unclear how easily an athlete could give their best if reinstated in such circumstances.
Of course, Herakevych likely knew all of this when he made the decision to insist on wearing his helmet, and resolved to take a stand anyway. Perhaps for a Ukrainian athlete at this current moment in time, events such as the Olympics represent more than simply a chance to compete and win; a chance to remind the world that their country exists, and of the plight it has been subjected to these last 4 years. Speaking before the ban was confirmed, the athlete said: “An Olympic medal would be huge. Since my childhood, it’s my big dream. But in this time of full‑scale war some things are really more important than medals. At this point, I would say a medal is worthless in comparison to people’s lives and, I believe, in comparison to the memory of these athletes.”
Ukrainian President Volodomyr Zelenskyy clearly agrees. Writing on X (formerly Twitter), the head of state thanked Herakevych for his “clear stance”, which he said was “a reminder to the whole world of what Russian aggression is and the cost of fighting for independence”. Zelenskyy’s post also railed at the inclusion of 13 Russian athletes in the Games under a ‘neutral’ flag, in circumstances where a total of 660 Ukrainian athletes had been killed by Russia since the start of the full-scale invasion. His conclusion: “having courage is worth more than any medal”.
Assuming Herakevych does not successfully appeal the decision, he will have paid a heavy price for taking a stand against both Russian aggression and the IOC’s rules (or, more accurately, their chosen interpretation of them). It is a price he appears to be willing to pay, or, as he put it in his own social media post: “This is the price of our dignity.”