The IAAF, the sport's governing body, has itself got plenty of explaining to do. It has been accused of accepting "cheating at all levels" and of being "inexplicably laissez-faire" in its approach to dealing with what the WADA report regarded as obvious and unmissable warning signals that cheating was taking place.
The report's main ire was directed at the ARAF and associated bodies but WADA pulled no punches when claiming that the corruption goes far beyond one rogue federation. It's become so bad that the IAAF is in danger of making scandals in world football look like petty misdemeanours.
How did athletics get itself into this state? It is not as if doping allegations are anything new. And athletics has had ample opportunity to up its game. Athletes from a variety of eastern bloc nations have revealed that they systematically took drugs through the 1980s, while the biggest doping case of them all - involving 100m sprinter Ben Johnson - sent shockwaves through not just athletics but the whole of world sport. The evidence was there for the guardians of the sport to find. Yet the IAAF never quite saw fit to look.
Outspoken critics such as the UK's Paula Radcliffe, marathon world record holder, knew something was deeply wrong, but without the support of the IAAF she knew that her public accusations of cheating would fall on deaf ears. At long last her concerns are being shown for what they really are - the reality of a sport that for far too long has tried to wish away its problems.
Where does the IAAF go from here? The initial responses of IAAF president, Sebastian Coe, have indicated that he is at least aware of the gravity of the problem. That is one key step in the right direction. There is no point trying to deflect the blame or somehow find a way of arguing that it isn't as bad as it looks. If the IAAF doesn't go on record as realising that the situation is terrible, then reform will be impossible.
Coe will also be well aware that if Russia and its athletes go down, then they are very likely to take others with them. We don't know who else is implicated in this, but if others have transgressed, the Russians won't take the fall for them.
Successful anti-corruption drives always have a strong leadership dimension to them. In Coe, the IAAF has a leader with a reputation not just for integrity, but for getting things done. While some are questioning Coe's judgement it appears that he now has a chance to show that he can take control of the situation - and he will need every ounce of the good will that he brings with him to push reforms through.
Without buy-in from prominent stakeholders within the IAAF and the attendant organisations under its jurisdiction, all attempts at reform will fail. Anti-corruption talk is cheap, but actually changing prevailing cultures is very difficult indeed.
The IAAF has to create institutional structures that have transparent processes at their core. There must be clear lines of accountability and rigorous monitoring. Drug-testing centres, in particular, need to be beyond reproach. Coe will know that this will entail the type of root-and-branch reform that national federations are, in the cold light of day, likely to resist.
In many cases genuine reform only takes place when evasion, delusion and plain old incompetence have all run their races. That is exactly where the IAAF is now.
Whether Coe and those around him will be able to rise to the challenge remains to be seen. He used to win athletics titles by patiently following lead runners around the running track and then coolly sprinting past them in the home straight. His running style was thoughtful, elegant and ultimately effective. His record as an administrator has been equally as good. Let's hope he manages to carry this on and meet one more challenge. The very fate of his sport might well depend on it.
Daniel Hough is the director of the Sussex Centre for the Study of Corruption.
This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article here.
