But when I saw a report this week quoting the star pole-vaulter as claiming that a ban on Russian athletes from the Rio Olympics would amount to a violation of human rights, I caught myself nodding in concurrence.

As things stand, there remains a distinct possibility of the Russian track and field team missing Rio 2016; this is because the All-Russian Athletic Federation has been suspended by the International Association of Athletic Federations (IAAF).

With the clock ticking down towards the Olympic Opening Ceremony on August 5, the position is expected to be made clearer following an IAAF Council meeting next month.

At present, however, sporting opinion - conditioned by ever more lurid allegations of systemic and state-sponsored drug use - is hardening against the ban being lifted in time for the Brazilian showcase.

Yes, I can sympathise with those who hold that, by opening the door to Russia, you may well be paving the way for Olympic medals to adorn the necks of athletes who have benefited from performance-enhancing drugs, to the detriment and frustration of clean competitors.

But by slamming it shut, you are equally, if not more, likely to be depriving honest Russian athletes - unjustly - of what might be their only chance of being part of their sport’s pinnacle event.

In the boycott-scarred years of the 1970s and 1980s, it used regularly to be emphasised that the Olympic Games was a collection of contests for individuals and not of nations.

It is increasingly difficult to keep sight of this in an age when sport is one of the chief vehicles of patriotism and Governments, accordingly, are prepared to invest heavily in Olympic success.

Nonetheless, would it be any more justifiable for a clean athlete to be deprived of Rio because s/he happens to be Russian – or Kenyan - than for, say, German fencer Thomas Bach to miss out on Moscow 1980 because the Soviet Union happened to have invaded Afghanistan?

The point, surely, is that while scrupulous monitoring of individual behaviour might not always deliver justice, you certainly cannot have justice without it.

Which brings me to what I think the ever more strident calls for a Russian ban are actually telling us: they amount to the clearest commentary you could wish to have on how little faith remains in the current anti-doping system.

If, after all, clean athletes and other stakeholders were confident that drug cheats inevitably got caught, there would be no need, clearly, for such blanket measures. 

Rather than allowing our desperation to push us towards hard-line measures that will impel their own injustices, however, I would contend that a more constructive, and better, approach would be to channel all possible resources into a concerted effort to make the current system better.

The International Olympic Committee (IOC), now headed of course by Bach, the former fencer, has plainly designated this issue a high priority: late last year, Bach outlined urgent plans aimed at beefing up the World Anti-Doping Agency (WADA) and transforming it into something closer to an independent body; and yesterday the IOC reacted to the latest demoralising allegations about Russia with a long and strongly-worded statement focused on retrospective testing.  

This is, though, a difficult and delicate area, impinging on matters of national sovereignty and important personal liberties.

The scope for recalcitrant national authorities and pricey lawyers to throw sand in the works is extensive.

Rapid progress towards an acceptably effective - and genuinely worldwide - dope prevention and detection system is likely, in short, to prove as elusive as it is now indispensable.

One of the chief aims of the proposals outlined last year seemed to be to remove control over testing and sanctions from International Sports Federations (IFs).

At least as vital, though, it appears to me, is to instil uniform high standards across national and regional anti-doping organisations.

WADA must take responsibility for training an international cadre of anti-doping specialists who should be authorised to take up posts in all NADOs and RADOs, as well as staffing an elite rapid intervention unit with responsibility for dealing with the most pressing problems.

A robust funding mechanism, not dependent on Governments with a million and one calls on their resources, must be identified, agreed and implemented.

Failure to do this, challenging as it undoubtedly is, will mean that honest athletes in sports with the most clear-cut connections between illicit drug use and improved performance will a) cheat b) give up in disgust or c) turn to sports where the link is less obvious.

They may well discourage kids from pursuing a career in sports too.

One unintended consequence of banning athletes from Russia, Kenya or any other top nation from Rio is that it ought to make it that little bit less difficult for countries, such as Great Britain, which have set themselves needlessly tough medals targets to hit those targets.

Fresh from its triumphs at London 2012, Britain set itself the aim of doing even better in Brazil, which would require the accumulation of 66 Olympic medals by its enviably well-resourced, National Lottery-funded athletes.

It has seemed to me for some time that team GB is unlikely to fall too far short of this lofty but unnecessarily vainglorious goal: there are a few extra events compared with London 2012; Brazil’s problems might deprive it of much of the customary home-team bounce; medal-rich swimming and athletics may deliver an unwontedly healthy GB medals haul, as might gymnastics; sports that have become “the usual suspects” - rowing, boxing, sailing, cycling, you know the ones – should once again contribute.

All in all, I would say that a total of 60 now looks to be within range; a few unexpected absentees might yet nudge the prospective tally still higher.