Stumped by Politics

Pakistan’s decision to avoid playing India at the T20 World Cup signals a shrinking space for even symbolic engagement between two hostile neighbours.

Cricket has long been described as the last remaining civil language between India and Pakistan, a rare arena where dialogue, however competitive, was still possible. The Pakistan Cricket Board’s reported decision to not allow its national team to play against India in the T20 World Cup is therefore not just a sporting withdrawal; it is a symbolic retreat.

It also marks a sharp departure from a long, if fragile, tradition in which cricket survived even during periods of near-total diplomatic paralysis. Even after the wars of 1965 and 1971, cricketing ties were eventually restored, often serving as an early indicator of political thaw rather than its consequence.

The question is not whether a single match will be missed, but what this refusal reveals about the present and future state of Indo-Pak relations. At one level, the decision reflects political compulsions rather than sporting logic.

Commercial Driver

India-Pakistan matches are the biggest commercial drivers in world cricket, commanding massive global viewership and sponsorship revenues. Walking away from such a fixture is a political statement. But what exactly is being achieved by it? Is the objective to apply diplomatic pressure on India, or merely to signal ideological rigidity to domestic audiences in Pakistan?

Past precedents suggest that such gestures rarely yield strategic dividends. Pakistan suspended cricketing ties after the 1999 Kargil conflict, only to quietly resume them years later with little alteration in India’s core policy positions.

Historically, cricket diplomacy has worked precisely because it allowed engagement without endorsement. From General Zia-ul-Haq’s ‘cricket for peace’ visit in 1987 to the resumption of tours in the early 2000s, the game often softened tensions when official channels froze. If even this minimal, controlled engagement is now deemed unacceptable, does it suggest that bilateral hostility has hardened to a point where symbolism matters more than dialogue?

The 2004 series in India, which followed years of military standoff after the Parliament attack, remains a telling example. Played amid tight security and deep mistrust, it nevertheless humanised the ‘other side’ creating political space, however briefly, for confidence-building measures.

One must also ask: who bears the cost of such decisions? It is certainly not the administrators or politicians. It is the players, many of whom share personal camaraderie across borders, and the fans, particularly Pakistani fans, who lose a global stage to showcase their team’s competitiveness. Is denying young Pakistani cricketers the chance to test themselves against India’s formidable side truly in the nation’s sporting interest?

Even during the aftermath of the 2008 Mumbai attacks, when bilateral relations were at their lowest ebb, cricket was suspended reluctantly, not triumphantly.

Negligible Impact

From India’s perspective, the impact may be limited. Indian cricket, both economically and structurally, is resilient enough to absorb such absences. The BCCI does not depend on Pakistan fixtures to sustain the game’s ecosystem. But diplomatically, does Pakistan’s withdrawal reinforce India’s long-held position that sports and terrorism cannot coexist? Or does it instead harden Indian public opinion further against people-to-people engagement, making future reconciliation even more remote?

There is also the international dimension to consider. Global sporting events like the T20 World Cup are meant to transcend bilateral disputes. When political vetoes dictate participation, what message does it send to the International Cricket Council? If one board can selectively opt out of marquee fixtures for political reasons, does it undermine the credibility of multinational tournaments? And will other nations, facing geopolitical disputes, feel emboldened to do the same?

Sporting history offers cautionary tales. The apartheid-era boycott of South Africa succeeded because it was multilateral and morally coherent. Unilateral withdrawals, by contrast, tend to isolate the withdrawer more than the target.

This episode forces us to confront an uncomfortable truth whether has cricket lost its power as a bridge between India and Pakistan, or is it being deliberately stripped of that role by political establishments that fear the softening of public hostility?

One must ask whether disengagement has ever produced positive outcomes in the subcontinent’s history. If cricket, arguably the most neutral and emotionally resonant platform, cannot be insulated from politics, what hope remains for cultural or civil exchanges?

The refusal to play India is about a door being quietly shut. The real question when dialogue through diplomacy is frozen and conversation through sport is silenced, what channels remain for peace - if peace is still the goal at all?