Roman gladiators entertained crowds that would match those of a modern Olympics, but they had no rights as citizens, however glorious their achievements.
It would be an exaggeration to suggest the same is the case for modern athletes - after all, they are free to pursue other occupations that would, for most, be better paid.
Nevertheless, in the current debate about doping in sport, there is a tendency for some officials and journalists to discuss athletics as if the participants were there solely for the public’s pleasure and had no rights worth considering.
This was first brought into focus last summer, when the confidential medical records of thousands of athletes were leaked to the media by whistleblowers at the International Association of Athletics Federations.
We now know that those responsible were understandably exasperated by their bosses covering up doping offences and using inside information about them to line their own pockets. But was it necessary to leak a database of the blood tests of thousands of athletes, most of them innocent, to expose those crimes? Could the same outcome have been achieved without a breach of privacy, itself a crime?
The leak of all those records led to a situation in which there was speculation about which athletes had recorded abnormal tests and ill-informed comment about what those abnormalities actually proved. Ultimately, the leak led to the marathon world record-holder Paula Radcliffe being identified and put in the impossible position of having to “prove” her own abnormal tests had innocent explanations.
My unease about athletes’ rights being overridden deepened this week with the announcement that British team members are to be asked within the next month to sign a pledge agreeing to forfeit their international careers if they are convicted of a doping offence.
Ed Warner, the chairman of British Athletics, told a committee of MPs: “To come on to the team you [will] have to say, ‘If I’m ever banned in future, I’ll never be picked again.’”
A readers’ poll conducted immediately afterwards by Athletics Weekly found 88% of the 402 voting agreed with the idea. However, Ben Nichols, the spokesperson for the World Anti-Doping Agency, said lifetime bans for first-time doping offenders “would not hold up in a court of law”, and that sanctions of up to four years were “proportionate and fair”.
Many will say, of course, that clean athletes should have nothing to fear from signing such a pledge, but it’s not as simple as that: while it’s right to have zero tolerance of doping, that doesn’t necessarily mean every case deserves the same punishment, especially when many of the people involved are still in their teens.
The main issue, though, is not so much whether the pledge idea is right or wrong, but the haste with which it is being implemented and the apparent lack of any consultation with the athletes themselves. The sport may be desperate to restore its reputation, but policy should not be made on the hoof and proper consideration should be given to athletes’ rights.
Athletes will have different views on these issues. Some have welcomed the pledge idea; others have misgivings. During the controversy about the leaked blood test data, some published their test results, eager to show they had no abnormal readings, while others objected to trial by media and felt privacy was a matter of principle.
What is lacking in all this is a means by which athletes can collectively come to a considered view and fight for it to be heard. Tennis, golf, football and cricket have long had player bodies to represent their interests.
Everyone agrees that the governance of athletics needs radical overhaul. A key part of that in Britain should be the creation of an association of professional athletes.
Athletics spectators deserve to know that the thrills they are watching are a product of clean competition, but the people who produce those thrills must also be treated like free citizens.