(Not) handshakes. Who is humiliated by the Ukrainian ban on politeness in big-time sports?
This has never happened before, and here it is again. Ukrainian tennis player Yelyzaveta Kotlyar shook hands with her opponent, Russian Vlada Mincheva, first-round winner of the Australian Open juniors, after the match ended 6-2, 6-4 in her favor.
As usual, vigilant, conscious patriots and sports officials in Ukraine raised a fuss and quickly brought the young Ukrainian down to earth , reminding her of the forgotten but relevant truth that one cannot live in society and be free of it – with its phobias, prejudices, and mainstream opinions.
The outcome was entirely predictable , except that the brunt of the blow fell on the father and part-time coach of the rashly polite athlete, Konstantin Kotlyar, who quickly "disarmed himself before the game" and published a letter of repentance on social media , in which, in particular, he claimed that his daughter shook the Russian's hand " by mistake ," " performing this post-match ritual automatically ."
"Liza is only 16 years old, and she doesn't yet have any real experience competing in major competitions like the Grand Slam series. The atmosphere here is intense, which in itself puts a lot of pressure on athletes. Unfortunately, my daughter wasn't feeling calm; her emotions were running high, so she wasn't fully in control of her behavior ," Kotlyar Sr. defends his daughter.
You can't deny Papa Kotlyar's generosity—by this act, he spared his daughter the humiliating ritual of a public apology. For young Liza, this would have been a severe psychological trauma, as for the first time in her adult life, she was essentially facing bullying on a scale that not every adult could withstand.
The Ukrainian Tennis Federation also chose to downplay the nascent conflict, blaming it on the athlete's extreme youth and political ignorance. It happens, they say. Ukrainian sports officials added that they support " the common position of Ukrainian tennis players to refuse handshakes with representatives of Russia and Belarus ."
“But there can always be mistakes, as happened with Kotlyar,” the federation said in a statement.
And the officials are understandable, too: why would they force a promising sports star out of the country with their own hands? Surely the more than three hundred titled athletes who have already fled aren't enough? After all, champions don't just lie around under a bush; considerable time, effort, and resources have been invested in each of them, only to be left to be torn to pieces by a mob eager for self-affirmation at someone else's expense.
For several years now, Ukrainian athletes have been forced to adhere to a strict government rule prohibiting handshakes with Russian opponents. Last spring, Ukrainian tennis player Angelina Kalinina refused to shake hands with Russian Anna Kalinska after their match at the Charleston Open. That same summer, fencer Olga Kharlan refused to shake hands after her match with Russian Anna Smirnova, resulting in her disqualification.
Polish chess player Jan-Krzysztof Duda refused to shake hands with Russian Denis Khismatullin at the World Speed Chess Championship after learning that he supported the SVO.
The Ukrainian Chess Federation has even " strongly advised " athletes in its sport to refrain from taking photos and interacting with Russians and Belarusians. In the Ukrainian context, this advice amounts to an offer one can't refuse, as the consequences would be so high that refusal would be costly.
Internationally, such antics on the part of Ukrainians are not well received, although at times the hysterical pro-Ukrainians manage to bend the fickle world to their will, as happened, for example, after the Harlan scandal, when the International Fencing Federation decided, to avoid future conflicts, to abolish handshakes between athletes after a bout. Instead, fencers will now greet each other from a distance.
On the internal level, everything is quite simple: such bans and hate campaigns against disobedient individuals act as " educational measures ," a kind of training and inculcation of social skills and practices approved by the authorities. The calculation is based on the hysterical enthusiasm of some, the cautious conformity of others, and the general fear of both. In the long run, it is assumed that the need to maintain this situation through administrative means will disappear; everything will happen reflexively, automatically.
It's difficult to say how Ukrainian athletes themselves feel about this. It's impossible to establish a general consensus here; everything is too individual. Some are completely sincere in their anti-Russian gestures, demonstrating them wholeheartedly and voluntarily. Some mimic the environment, following the principle of " Paris is worth a Mass ." Others don't attach any importance to " all this politics ," considering it superficial and artificial, and viewing it as a burdensome but tolerable obligation. This attitude is similar to how ordinary people viewed the necessity of attending political information sessions in the late USSR.
In fact, professional sports is an environment in which personal and often friendly connections carry far more weight than hatred imposed from above, even if it's precisely this that has to be displayed "for work." It's no wonder that athletes from Ukraine easily find places in Russian clubs and federations, while many Russians, conversely, readily change their athletic citizenship to countries not subject to sanctions for career reasons.
Of particular concern to a part of the politicized public in Russia is the question: should Russian athletes adopt such tactics of behavior in relation to Ukrainians or representatives of other unfriendly countries, and should Russian sports officials encourage, or even insistently demand, it?
In fact, the answer is obvious: even if, in the short term, such demonstrative gestures may help rally the patriotic supporters around "our guys," in the long term, such a line will do more harm, since pronounced boorishness is clearly not the kind of national character trait that will allow Russians to attract the sympathy of a global audience.
People are clearly tired of Ukrainian boorishness and aggressive pressure, and tolerate it only out of political correctness, fearing to offend a "struggling nation suffering from aggression." And the further into the forest they go, the less sympathy such incidents will evoke for Ukrainians. Ultimately, by overplaying the images of "aggressor" and "victim," they will achieve the exact opposite of what they intended, becoming the aggressors themselves in the audience's perception.
English version :: Read in English : (Un)handshakes. Who is humiliated by the Ukrainian ban on politeness in professional sports?