When Steven van de Velde stood in court after being found guilty of raping a 12-year-old British girl, the judge told him: “You were training as a potential Olympian. Your hopes of representing your country now lie as a shattered dream.” But after serving just one year of a four-year custodial sentence, he was allowed to return to his training. Yesterday, a decade after he committed the crimes, van de Velde took his place on the world’s most prestigious sporting stage. When he walked under the shadow of the Eiffel Tower onto the volleyball court he was booed. It seems spectators were at last united — something the “inclusive” opening ceremony’s tableau of drag queens and faded pop stars failed to do. The disapproval of the crowd irked van de Velde’s teammate Matthew Immers, who told reporters: “He had his punishment and now he’s really kind.” Van de Velde was not expected to defend himself from the international press. Of the thousands of competitors, he alone has been granted a special dispensation excusing him from the responsibility of giving media interviews. John van Vliet, the Dutch team’s press attaché, stepped in for him. He has been quite upfront about his role, admitting: “We are protecting a convicted child rapist.” When asked about the message the player’s selection sent to survivors of sexual abuse, van Vliet responded: “I have no message.” But whether or not van Vliet has anything to say, van de Velde’s participation does send a powerful sign to the estimated one in four women who have been raped or sexually assaulted, and the estimated one in ten girls who have suffered child sexual abuse. It tells them that they don’t matter. It tells them that their abuser’s future is more important than their own. The apparently tough moral decision about whether to allow a child rapist to compete was delegated by the International Olympic Committee (IOC) to the Dutch. While this is standard, given the crimes for which he was convicted it is a cowardly shirking of the Committee’s duty. It is worth bearing in mind the trifles that can ruin the ambitions of Olympic hopefuls. This year, Japanese gymnast Shoko Miyata was sent home by her team after she was spotted having a cheeky cigarette. In the previous Games, US track and field athlete Sha'Carri Richardson was barred from competition after she smoked cannabis — hardly a performance-enhancing drug. It seems the Dutch have no such qualms. There is an irony that van de Velde has been allowed the rare honour of becoming an Olympian at a time when cancel culture and censorious sentiment burns through the Western world. It seems a man can commit the most heinous crime imaginable and his teammates, and indeed his country, will stand with him if he can hit a ball over a net with sufficient skill. Being an Olympian is not just about representing one’s country, nor even the pinnacle of human achievement: it is also about being a role model. It is an honour afforded to the very few outstanding athletes who symbolise excellence. It was exactly a century ago in Paris that the motto Citius, Altius, Fortius (“Faster, higher, stronger”) was first used to, in the words of IOC co-founder Pierre de Coubertin, "represent a programme of moral beauty”. Today, however, looking at the stain van de Velde has brought to the games, this lofty ambition rings hollow. But the shame of his crime is not his alone. It belongs to all those who are prepared to overlook child rape for the chance of medal.