Cricket is celebrated as a gentleman’s game, governed by fair play and an insistence that sports and politics should remain separate. However, as the T20 World Cup began on 7 February, co-hosted by India and Sri Lanka, it is hard to ignore how quickly these ideals collapse when confronted with geopolitics.
Bangladesh’s absence from the tournament is immensely telling. Officially, the Bangladesh Cricket Board cited security and safety concerns about playing its fixtures in India. These concerns are inseparable from the rapidly deteriorating political relationship between the two nations. Since former Bangladeshi Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina (long perceived as a close ally of India) fled to Delhi following mass protests and violence, relations between the two have sharply declined. India has refused Bangladesh’s request for her extradition, a decision that has become symbolically potent. In parallel, there have been rising reports of attacks against Hindus and other religious minorities in Bangladesh, further intensifying domestic volatility and sensitivity around national security.
Against this backdrop, Bangladesh requested that its World Cup matches be relocated to Sri Lanka, but this request was denied by the International Cricket Council (ICC). This refusal is difficult to justify when set against recent precedent: in 2025, India refused to travel to Pakistan for the ICC Champions Trophy, citing security concerns, and was permitted to play all of its matches in Dubai. If India’s security is treated as legitimate and urgent, should Bangladesh not be offered the same support?
The politicisation of cricket does not begin or end here. In January 2026, Mustafizur Rahman was the only Bangladeshi player entered into the Indian Premier League (IPL) auction. He was released by the Kolkata Knight Riders, with the IPL stating that the decision was made “on the instruction of the Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI).” Shortly after, Bangladesh’s interim government announced that the IPL would no longer be broadcast. These are not isolated sporting decisions, but retaliatory political gestures conducted by cricketing institutions.
Pakistan’s role adds another layer of complexity; they initially announced that they would boycott their match against India, scheduled to be played in Colombo, in solidarity with Bangladesh. Given the tenuous history between India and Pakistan, this was hardly a radical decision. India has not toured Pakistan since 2008, following the Mumbai attacks, and Pakistan itself spent nearly a decade without hosting international teams after the 2009 attack on Sri Lanka’s team bus. More recently, tensions have flared between the two nations during clashes in the contested territory of Kashmir in May 2025.
However, Pakistan’s boycott was brief. It is not entirely clear why; however, there are several potential explanations. For instance, the financial and symbolic weight of an India-Pakistan fixture is overwhelming. A single match between the two rivals could generate £183.6m in revenue. Their 2019 World Cup face-off drew an astonishing 273m unique viewers. To forgo such a match is not just a political statement, but an economic sacrifice with ramifications for broadcasters, sponsors, and cricket boards worldwide. Even the Bangladesh Cricket Board, while welcoming Pakistan’s gesture, urged it to reconsider for the sake of the “entire cricket ecosystem.”
Scotland stepped into this geopolitical whirlwind as the highest-ranked team not originally qualified. The nation’s inclusion from a sporting perspective is welcome; it is certainly refreshing to see Scotland gain exposure on cricket’s biggest stage. But national pride should not obscure the broader context. Scotland’s opportunity arises from the deeply political and arguably unjust exclusion of Bangladesh.
Together, this is a troubling picture. In India, Pakistan, and Bangladesh, cricket is not simply entertainment; it is woven into national identity, public emotion, and political legitimacy. That is precisely why it is such a powerful and dangerous tool. The BBCI, as the wealthiest and most influential cricket board in the world, proclaims that politics must remain separate from sport. Yet, its actions suggest a more pragmatic rhetoric: politics is unavoidable, but power determines whose politics prevail.
This World Cup is a case study in how global sport accommodates inequality under the guise of neutrality. When India refused to travel, the schedule was adjusted. When Bangladesh requested the same consideration, the door was shut in their face. The ICC may present itself as an impartial custodian of the game, but its decisions increasingly reflect a world where cricketing governance follows geopolitical gravity.
Cricket likes to imagine itself as a level playing field. But the pitch is anything but even.
“Supporters of the Bangladesh cricket team” by Leemon2010 is licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0.
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The T20 World Cup Controversy: A Window into South Asia’s Geopolitical Rivalry
Cricket is celebrated as a gentleman’s game, governed by fair play and an insistence that sports and politics should remain separate. However, as the T20 World Cup began on 7 February, co-hosted by India and Sri Lanka, it is hard to ignore how quickly these ideals collapse when confronted with geopolitics.
Bangladesh’s absence from the tournament is immensely telling. Officially, the Bangladesh Cricket Board cited security and safety concerns about playing its fixtures in India. These concerns are inseparable from the rapidly deteriorating political relationship between the two nations. Since former Bangladeshi Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina (long perceived as a close ally of India) fled to Delhi following mass protests and violence, relations between the two have sharply declined. India has refused Bangladesh’s request for her extradition, a decision that has become symbolically potent. In parallel, there have been rising reports of attacks against Hindus and other religious minorities in Bangladesh, further intensifying domestic volatility and sensitivity around national security.
Against this backdrop, Bangladesh requested that its World Cup matches be relocated to Sri Lanka, but this request was denied by the International Cricket Council (ICC). This refusal is difficult to justify when set against recent precedent: in 2025, India refused to travel to Pakistan for the ICC Champions Trophy, citing security concerns, and was permitted to play all of its matches in Dubai. If India’s security is treated as legitimate and urgent, should Bangladesh not be offered the same support?
The politicisation of cricket does not begin or end here. In January 2026, Mustafizur Rahman was the only Bangladeshi player entered into the Indian Premier League (IPL) auction. He was released by the Kolkata Knight Riders, with the IPL stating that the decision was made “on the instruction of the Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI).” Shortly after, Bangladesh’s interim government announced that the IPL would no longer be broadcast. These are not isolated sporting decisions, but retaliatory political gestures conducted by cricketing institutions.
Pakistan’s role adds another layer of complexity; they initially announced that they would boycott their match against India, scheduled to be played in Colombo, in solidarity with Bangladesh. Given the tenuous history between India and Pakistan, this was hardly a radical decision. India has not toured Pakistan since 2008, following the Mumbai attacks, and Pakistan itself spent nearly a decade without hosting international teams after the 2009 attack on Sri Lanka’s team bus. More recently, tensions have flared between the two nations during clashes in the contested territory of Kashmir in May 2025.
However, Pakistan’s boycott was brief. It is not entirely clear why; however, there are several potential explanations. For instance, the financial and symbolic weight of an India-Pakistan fixture is overwhelming. A single match between the two rivals could generate £183.6m in revenue. Their 2019 World Cup face-off drew an astonishing 273m unique viewers. To forgo such a match is not just a political statement, but an economic sacrifice with ramifications for broadcasters, sponsors, and cricket boards worldwide. Even the Bangladesh Cricket Board, while welcoming Pakistan’s gesture, urged it to reconsider for the sake of the “entire cricket ecosystem.”
Scotland stepped into this geopolitical whirlwind as the highest-ranked team not originally qualified. The nation’s inclusion from a sporting perspective is welcome; it is certainly refreshing to see Scotland gain exposure on cricket’s biggest stage. But national pride should not obscure the broader context. Scotland’s opportunity arises from the deeply political and arguably unjust exclusion of Bangladesh.
Together, this is a troubling picture. In India, Pakistan, and Bangladesh, cricket is not simply entertainment; it is woven into national identity, public emotion, and political legitimacy. That is precisely why it is such a powerful and dangerous tool. The BBCI, as the wealthiest and most influential cricket board in the world, proclaims that politics must remain separate from sport. Yet, its actions suggest a more pragmatic rhetoric: politics is unavoidable, but power determines whose politics prevail.
This World Cup is a case study in how global sport accommodates inequality under the guise of neutrality. When India refused to travel, the schedule was adjusted. When Bangladesh requested the same consideration, the door was shut in their face. The ICC may present itself as an impartial custodian of the game, but its decisions increasingly reflect a world where cricketing governance follows geopolitical gravity.
Cricket likes to imagine itself as a level playing field. But the pitch is anything but even.
“Supporters of the Bangladesh cricket team” by Leemon2010 is licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0.
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