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New Delhi, India – On January 3, 2026, a single directive from the Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI) quietly ended the Indian Premier League (IPL) season of Bangladesh’s only cricketer in the tournament, Mustafizur Rahman, before it could even begin.

The Kolkata Knight Riders (KKR), a professional Twenty20 franchise based in Kolkata that competes in the IPL and is owned by Red Chillies Entertainment, associated with Bollywood actor Shah Rukh Khan, were instructed by India’s cricket board to release the Bangladesh fast bowler.

Not because of injury, form, or contract disputes, but due to “developments all around” – an apparent reference to soaring tensions between India and Bangladesh that have been high since ousted former Bangladesh Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina received exile in New Delhi in August 2024.

Within days, Mustafizur signed up for the Pakistan Super League (PSL), the Bangladesh Cricket Board (BCB) protested sharply, the IPL broadcast was banned in Bangladesh, and the International Cricket Council (ICC) – the body that governs the sport globally – was pulled into a diplomatic standoff.

What should have been a routine player transaction instead became a symbol of how cricket in South Asia has shifted from a tool of diplomacy to an instrument of political pressure.

Cricket has long been the subcontinent’s soft-power language, a shared obsession that survived wars, border closures, and diplomatic freezes. Today, that language is being rewritten, say observers and analysts.

India, the financial and political centre of world cricket, is increasingly using its dominance of the sport to signal, punish, and coerce its neighbours, particularly Pakistan and Bangladesh, they say.

The Mustafizur affair: When politics entered the dressing room

Rahman was signed by KKR for 9.2 million Indian rupees ($1m) before the IPL 2026 season.

Yet the BCCI instructed the franchise to release him, citing vague external developments widely understood to be linked to political tensions between India and Bangladesh.

The consequences were immediate.

Mustafizur, unlikely to receive compensation because the termination was not injury-related, accepted an offer from the PSL – picking the Pakistani league after an Indian snub – returning to the tournament after eight years.

The PSL confirmed his participation before its January 21 draft. The BCB, meanwhile, called the BCCI’s intervention “discriminatory and insulting”.

Dhaka escalated the matter beyond cricket, asking the ICC to move Bangladesh’s matches from the upcoming T20 World Cup, which India is primarily hosting, to Sri Lanka over security concerns.

The Bangladeshi government went further, banning the broadcast of the IPL nationwide, a rare step that underlined how deeply cricket intersects with politics and public sentiment in South Asia.

The BCB on January 7 said the International Cricket Council (ICC) has assured it of Bangladesh’s full and uninterrupted participation in the ICC Men’s T20 World Cup 2026, dismissing media reports of any ultimatum.

The BCB said the ICC responded to its concerns over the safety and security of the national team in India, including a request to relocate matches, and reaffirmed its commitment to safeguarding Bangladesh’s participation while expressing willingness to work closely with the Board during detailed security planning.

Yet for now, Bangladesh’s matches remain scheduled for the Indian megacities of Kolkata and Mumbai from February 7, 2026, even as tensions simmer.

Navneet Rana, a BJP leader said that no Bangladeshi cricketer or celebrity should be “entertained in India” while Hindus and minorities are being targeted in Bangladesh.

Meanwhile, Indian Congress leader Shashi Tharoor questioned the decision to release Mustafizur Rahman, warning against politicising sport and punishing individual players for developments in another country.

A pattern, not an exception

The Mustafizur controversy fits into a broader trajectory.

While all cricket boards operate within political realities, the BCCI’s unique financial power gives it leverage unmatched by any other body in the sport, say analysts.

The ICC, the sport’s global body, is headed by Jay Shah, the son of India’s powerful home minister Amit Shah – widely seen as the second-most influential man in India after Prime Minister Narendra Modi. The IPL, meanwhile, is by far the richest franchise league in the world.

India, with 1.5 billion people, is cricket’s biggest market and generates an estimated 80 percent of the sport’s revenue.

All of that, say analysts, gives India the ability to shape scheduling of events and matches, venues, and revenue-sharing arrangements. This, in turn, has made cricket a strategic asset for the Indian government.

When political relations sour, cricket is no longer insulated.

Nowhere is this clearer than in India’s relationship with Bangladesh at the moment. India has historically been viewed as close to Hasina, whose ouster in 2024 followed weeks of popular protests that her security forces attempted to crush using brutal force. An estimated 1,400 people were killed in that crackdown, according to the United Nations.

India has so far refused to send Hasina back to Bangladesh from exile, even though a tribunal in Dhaka sentenced her to death in late 2025 over the killings of protesters during the uprising that led to her removal. That has spurred sentiments against India on the streets of Bangladesh, which escalated after the assassination of an anti-India protest leader in December.

Meanwhile, attacks on Hindus and other religious minorities in Bangladesh since August 2024 – a Hindu Bangladeshi man was lynched last month – have caused anger in India.

Against that backdrop, the BCCI’s move to kick Rahman out of the IPL has drawn criticism from Indian commentators. Senior journalist Vir Sanghvi wrote in a column that the cricket board “panicked” and surrendered to communal pressure instead of standing by its own player-selection process, turning a sporting issue into a diplomatic embarrassment.

He argued Bangladesh did not warrant a sport boycott and warned that mixing communal politics with cricket risks damaging India’s credibility and regional ties.

Echoing the concern, Suhasini Haidar, diplomatic editor of The Hindu, one of India’s largest dailies, said on X that the government was allowing social media campaigns to overpower diplomacy. She referred to how Indian Foreign Minister S Jaishankar had travelled recently to Dhaka to attend the funeral of former Bangladesh PM Khaleda Zia, and wondered why Bangladeshi cricketers couldn’t then play in India.

Cricket analyst Darminder Joshi said the episode reflected how cricket, once a bridge between India and its neighbours, was increasingly widening divisions.

That was particularly visible late last year, when India and Pakistan faced off in cricket matches months after an intense four-day aerial war.

The Asia Cup standoff

The 2025 Asia Cup, hosted by Pakistan in September, was meant to be a celebration of regional cricket.

But citing government advice, the BCCI informed the ICC and the Asian Cricket Council (ACC) – the sport’s continental governing body – that India would not travel to Pakistan.

After months of wrangling, the tournament was held under a hybrid model, with India playing its matches in the United Arab Emirates while the rest were hosted in Pakistan.

But in three matches that the South Asian rivals played against each other during the competition – India won all three – the Indian team refused to publicly shake hands with their Pakistani counterparts.

“There is no rule in cricket that mandates a handshake. Yet players often tie each other’s shoelaces or help opponents on the field, that is the spirit of the game,” Joshi, the cricket analyst, told Al Jazeera. “If countries are in conflict, will players now refuse even these gestures? Such incidents only spread hate and strip the game of what makes it special.

“Sporting exchanges once softened bilateral tensions; this decision does exactly the opposite, making the game more hostile instead of more interesting.”

The controversy did not end with the final. India won the tournament, defeating Pakistan, but refused to accept the trophy from ACC President Mohsin Naqvi, who is also the Pakistan Cricket Board chairman and Pakistan’s interior minister.

The trophy remains at the ACC headquarters in Dubai, creating an unprecedented limbo that has defied resolution despite multiple ICC and ACC meetings. The BCCI requested that the trophy be sent to India. Naqvi has refused.

From bridge to divider

Unlike Pakistan, Bangladesh has historically enjoyed smoother cricketing ties with India. Bilateral series continued even during political disagreements, and Bangladeshi players became familiar faces in the IPL.

The Mustafizur episode marks a turning point. The current moment stands in stark contrast to earlier eras when cricket was deliberately used to soften political hostilities.

The most celebrated example remains India’s 2004 tour of Pakistan, the so-called “Friendship Series”.

That tour took place after years of frozen ties following the Kargil War, an armed conflict between India and Pakistan that took place from May to July 1999.

The then-Prime Minister Atal Bihari Vajpayee personally met the Indian team before departure, handing captain Sourav Ganguly a bat inscribed with the Hindi words: “Khel hi nahi, dil bhi jeetiye” which translates to “don’t just win matches, win hearts too”.

Special cricket visas allowed thousands of Indian fans to travel across the border. Pakistani then-President Pervez Musharraf followed the games and publicly lauded Indian cricketers who developed followings of their own in Pakistan.

The 2008 Mumbai attacks, carried out by fighters that Pakistan acknowledged had come from its territory, froze cricketing ties.

But in 2011, when India and Pakistan faced off in the World Cup semifinal in Mohali, Indian then-Prime Minister Manmohan Singh invited his Pakistani counterpart, Yousuf Raza Gilani, over – the two premiers watched the match together in what was widely seen as an act of “cricket diplomacy”.

By intervening in a franchise-level contract and linking it, however obliquely, to geopolitical tensions as has happened with the Mustafizur case, the BCCI sent a clear message, say analysts: Access to Indian cricket is conditional.

Sport journalist Nishant Kapoor told Al Jazeera that releasing a contracted player purely on political grounds was “absolutely wrong” and warned it would widen mistrust in the cricketing ecosystem.

The Trump administration has once again threatened to take control of Greenland either by acquiring it or through the use of military force to “deter our adversaries in the Arctic region.”

Greenland, which is a semi-autonomous territory of Denmark, already hosts the Pituffik Space Base, which the US operates in coordination with Danish authorities. Both the US and Denmark are founding members of NATO, the most powerful military alliance.

European and Canadian leaders have jumped to support Denmark and Greenland, saying they are working on a plan in the event the United States follows through with its threats.

Analysts have said that any attempt by the US to seize Greenland would be an unprecedented move in NATO’s history and raise serious questions about the survival of the alliance and the limits of Article 5, which was designed to defend against an external aggressor.

What happens if one NATO member attacks another?

Collective defence is NATO’s governing principle, where Article 5 of the North Atlantic Treaty states that an armed attack against one NATO member is considered an attack against all.

This has been a binding pledge since 1949, when the alliance came together and one that has forged solidarity between North America and Europe.

Because Article 5 requires unanimous agreement from all members to be invoked, a conflict between two members would lead to an impasse, as the alliance cannot vote to go to war against itself.

The only time Article 5 has been invoked was following the September 11, 2001, attacks in the US.

In this timeline, Al Jazeera examines the closest instances when NATO members have faced potential conflict with each other.

Limited military confrontations

1958–1976 – The UK and Iceland fishing dispute

The Cod Wars (1958–1976) were a series of escalating disputes between the UK and Iceland over North Atlantic fishing rights.

While the conflict never became a full-scale confrontation, it did involve a series of naval confrontations, including the ramming of ships and diplomatic friction between the two NATO members.

Fearing the loss of the Keflavik airbase in Iceland, which was essential for monitoring Soviet submarines in the northern Atlantic Ocean, NATO and the US pressured the UK to concede. The dispute ended in 1976 with a key diplomatic win for Iceland, establishing the 200-mile (322km) limit that remains the global standard today.

1974 – Greece and Turkiye over Cyprus

The 1974 Turkish invasion of Cyprus is the closest NATO has come to its members engaging in full-scale war. Following a Greek-sponsored coup in Cyprus, Turkiye launched a military intervention that nearly sparked a direct conflict between the two NATO members.

In protest of NATO’s perceived failure to restrain Turkiye, Greece withdrew from the alliance’s military structure from 1974 until 1980.

Given that this was during the Cold War, both members were imperative to NATO’s collective front against the Soviet Union. Despite some military action between Greece and Turkiye, the alliance was able to prevent a direct war.

1995 – Canada and Spain fishing dispute

In 1995, Canada and Spain came close to a naval conflict during the “Turbot War”. Canada had imposed restrictions to protect fish stocks, including a species of fish named turbot, leading to accusations that EU boats were overfishing just outside Canada’s exclusive economic zone.

Tensions escalated when Canadian Coast Guard vessels fired warning shots over a Spanish trawler and arrested its crew. Europe threatened sanctions, but the UK vetoed them, siding with Canada alongside Ireland. In response, Spain deployed naval patrols, and Canada authorised its navy to fire on trespassing vessels, bringing NATO members dangerously close to conflict.

The crisis ended following EU mediation, resulting in Canada withdrawing its enforcement actions and the establishment of a joint regulatory framework.

Disputes over war engagements

NATO has also faced internal divisions over when and how to engage militarily, with some members often wanting to avoid direct military action.

1956 – France, UK and US over the Suez Crisis

During the 1956 Suez Crisis, France and the UK formed a secret alliance with Israel to invade Egypt following Egyptian President Gamal Abdel Nasser’s nationalisation of the Suez Canal.

This operation caused a severe crisis within NATO, as the United States, fearing Soviet intervention and the alienation of the Arab world, strongly opposed the military action. Despite the lack of agreement, France and the UK went ahead with operations anyway.

The conflict was ultimately resolved by the UN’s first-ever armed peacekeeping mission, the United Nations Emergency Force (UNEF), which established the blueprint for future UN peacekeeping operations.

1960s-1970s – US and European allies over Vietnam War

The Vietnam War saw a significant disagreement between NATO members over US military interventions, where Washington viewed Vietnam as a key front in the Cold War, but key European allies, such as France and the UK, opposed direct military involvement.

France openly condemned the war and ended up leaving NATO’s military command in 1966 to avoid being dragged into future US conflicts. France eventually rejoined the military structure 43 years later in 2009.

The UK opposed sending British troops despite pressure from the US, as the war was widely unpopular with the British public. However, it did provide logistical and intelligence support for the US. Interestingly, given its usual close alliance with the UK, and despite not being a member of NATO, Australia committed troops to the war.

These differences led to tensions among the biggest players in NATO and resulted in the Vietnam War not being mandated under NATO command. It also resulted in NATO’s headquarters moving from France to Belgium, where it remains today.

1999 – Greece’s opposition to Kosovo air campaign

In 1999, NATO launched an air campaign in response to the ethnic cleansing carried out by Serbian forces in Kosovo.

The alliance conducted an air campaign against Yugoslavia, but met serious reservations from NATO members, such as Greece, which shared close cultural and religious ties with Serbia. Greek protesters physically blocked and targeted British troops and tanks that were travelling to join allied forces.

Greece became the first NATO member to call for a halt to the bombing.

2003 – European allies split over Iraq War

The 2003 Iraq War caused one of the deepest rifts in NATO’s history.

While the alliance supported UNSC Resolution 1441, which gave Iraq “a final opportunity to comply with its disarmament obligations”, three NATO members: France, Germany and Belgium rejected the US claim that it authorised immediate military action, leading to a deadlock.

In the end, the invasion was conducted by a “Coalition of the Willing” rather than NATO itself, and Article 5 remained uninvoked.

2011 – Disagreements over Libya intervention

During the 2011 intervention in Libya, NATO members had failed to come to an agreement over whether NATO should be in charge of enforcing a no-fly zone over Libya if the US stepped back from leading the operation.

Germany and Poland opposed a military intervention entirely, with Germany refusing to back an UN Security Council resolution authorising NATO action. Turkiye also voiced strong opposition, insisting that any action must avoid occupation and conclude quickly.

France opposed leading the NATO intervention, while Italy said it wanted to take back control of airbases it had authorised for use by allies unless a coordination structure was agreed.

These internal divisions delayed NATO from taking formal command of the air campaign until nearly two weeks after the initial coalition strikes began.

Other notable disagreements

NATO has faced disagreements over Afghanistan and deployments in Eastern Europe following the Russia-Ukraine war. Some members have limited how and where their military forces will operate.

In addition, there have also been budget disputes and missile defence issues. However, the alliance has never broken apart.

For almost 27 years, the Venezuelan military – formally known as the National Bolivarian Armed Forces (FANB) – was a firm ally to presidents Hugo Chavez and Nicolas Maduro, as they systematically drifted from seeking an alternative to Western liberal democracy, and towards authoritarianism.

The FANB helped the Venezuelan government dismantle the institutions of the previous political establishment and persecute its most fervent opponents. In exchange, the governments of Chavez and Maduro, respectively, gave more and more power to the military within Venezuelan politics, offering them ministerial positions, governorships, embassies and other leadership roles such as mayoralties or the administration of state-run enterprises.

Now, with the abduction of Maduro by United States special forces last Saturday, the military’s image as a protector of the Venezuelan state has taken a hit: The deposed president was kidnapped from the largest Venezuelan military complex, Fuerte Tiuna, in an operation that exposed the deficiencies in the FANB’s military technology and defence protocols.

The military faces a crucial dilemma – make changes and serve as the guarantor of the deals fronted by the Donald Trump administration in the US and interim president Delcy Rodriguez in Caracas, or risk further US attacks and erosion of its power and status.

The rise before the fall

Over the years, the FANB’s influence has grown significantly, including in law enforcement – supplanting, in many cases, the roles of the state and local police.

This phenomenon accelerated after the presidential elections of July 28, 2024, when the then-government of Maduro faced an unprecedented legitimacy crisis amid strong accusations of widespread vote-counting fraud.

A police state was established in Venezuela, in which mass surveillance of opponents moved to a new level.

The government, back then and until now, came to depend on the FANB to remain standing. In part, this was done by incorporating into the military elements of the ruling United Socialist Party of Venezuela (PSUV), paramilitary groups (also called “colectivos”), and the political, judicial and military police. This entire security framework has been described by the Venezuelan government as a “civic-military-police union.”

The post-Maduro era

That power means that the military retains a critical role in any political transition in Venezuela. Many analysts believe that any government established in Venezuela, whether via democratic means or through force, needs the support of the military to be able to govern.

The case of Delcy Rodriguez’s administration is no exception to this rule. Despite counting on Trump’s acquiescence to take the reins of a post-Maduro political transition, the president in charge of Venezuela needs the support of the Venezuelan military to avoid a possible aggravation of political and social tensions in Venezuela. Rodriguez’s acceptance among military ranks is the weightiest reason why the US president has trusted her – rather than opposition leader Maria Corina Machado – to lead the political transition in the country.

But the abduction of Maduro has, at the same time, shown up the weaknesses of the FANB. Its insurmountable asymmetry of power in relation to the US military’s might leaves Venezuela vulnerable to possible new attacks coming from the US, even though Trump has, for the moment, said he has no such plans.

That threat is the biggest incentive for the FANB to itself make compromises, and is the reason why the military leadership might be open to being a part of the political transition led by Rodriguez.

What’s next for the military?

The Venezuelan military will want, as much as possible, to maintain its status within Venezuelan politics.

To achieve this objective, the FANB leadership will likely need to comply with a series of steps, some of which were – until recently – unthinkable in Venezuelan politics.

First, military leaders must dissociate themselves from all accusations linking them to drug trafficking activities, the official argument used by the US for its military campaign against Venezuela.

Second, the military leadership must accept the new oil agreement between Venezuela and the US, which will very likely grant US companies significant control over Venezuelan crude reserves and production.

Third, it is possible that, at some point in the Venezuelan political transition, the FANB will need to reduce its repressive activities against the Venezuelan civilian population. This means, in practice, the reduction of its role in the current police state, or the so-called “Civic-Military-Police Union”.

Finally, the Venezuelan military leadership must close ranks with the interim president, Rodriguez, because she represents the only – and perhaps the last – direct channel of communication with the Trump administration. The military could argue domestically that it needs to do this in order to shore up the country’s stability amid the chaos generated by Maduro’s exit.

Fundamentally, adopting these changes would mean that the military underwrites the agreements reached between Rodriguez and Trump, and plays the role of a stabilising agent in the country’s post-Maduro era. It’s a format the US is used to, as well, with Washington relying on military-led establishments in multiple countries over the decades, from Egypt to Pakistan to Thailand to many more.