Nations have long sought to launder their unsavoury reputations by sponsoring sporting contests with global appeal. Such cunning is probably close to the mind of India’s strongman prime minister, Narendra Modi. His re-election campaign will in effect be launched this week, when India, the hosts of the cricket World Cup, take on arch-rivals Pakistan. With home advantage, India are favourites to win the tournament. If the team are crowned one-day world cricket champions this year, Mr Modi may be tempted to call an early poll to capitalise on the celebratory fervour.
Under Mr Modi, India has seen increasing violence against religious minorities and the criminalisation of dissent. But no cricketing nation wants to offend New Delhi. The country’s cricket governing body dominates global decision-making and is run by Modi loyalists. When its cricket team refused to travel to Pakistan last year, the matches were moved to Sri Lanka. The Indian Premier League, featuring a TV-friendly three‑hour version of cricket, is the world’s second‑most lucrative sport. The ruthless advance of commercial interests seems like progress in one sense but decadence in another.
India controls one sport, but others are buying the biggest names in sports to exert control. In the English Premier League, Manchester City is majority-owned by the United Arab Emirates’ deputy prime minister. Purchasing trophy assets is a way to exert soft power. Qatar’s 2022 football World Cup was a sportwashing high point. Controversies over the host’s poor human rights record and draconian anti-gay laws did not stop fans from turning out in droves.
Staging today’s 48-team competition single‑handedly is considered too demanding for most nations. The next men’s tournament in 2026 will be played in Canada, Mexico and the US. But holding the 2030 competition in South America, Africa and Europe sounds surreal. Spain, Portugal and Morocco have been named as co-hosts, yet the opening three matches will take place in Uruguay, Argentina and Paraguay to mark the World Cup’s centenary. Such a bizarre arrangement may lead to calls for a return to a single-country format. Despite its appalling human rights record, Saudi Arabia is in pole position to hold the 2034 World Cup.
Like Mr Modi’s India, Mohammed bin Salman’s Saudi Arabia stands accused of assassinating its critics abroad. Buying into sport has helped to rehabilitate its image. A 2021 Saudi-led takeover of English football’s Newcastle United was controversial, but local fans celebrated by waving the kingdom’s flags. Its money talks: football’s Cristiano Ronaldo plays in the Saudi Pro League for a reported £173m a year. The country stunned professional golf when its LIV Golf vehicle said it would invest $1bn to merge with the PGA – despite the latter’s concerns over Saudi Arabia’s use of torture, imprisoning political activists and history of enforced disappearances. Cash is not everything. Formula One drivers threatened to boycott the country in 2022 after a missile strike near the racetrack. A ceasefire in the neighbouring Yemen war was called a month later.
Realpolitik can’t be overlooked. Respecting different cultures does not mean abuse is condoned. The lure of the arena ought not excuse a lack of moral responsibility. Sport can produce great public happiness, and the idea that only the ill-intentioned would censure it. But it jars to know that the pure joy experienced by many fans rests on the fruits of baseness.
