Seven former Australia cricket captains have appealed to the country’s Foreign Minister Penny Wong over the treatment of former Pakistan Prime Minister Imran Khan, adding to growing concern among prominent cricketers over his detention.

Allan Border, Greg Chappell, Ian Chappell, Belinda Clark, Kim Hughes, Mark Taylor and Steve Waugh signed the letter to Wong, stressing that they were speaking “not as diplomats or political figures, but as former captains who felt compelled to speak up”. The former captains said they were not taking a position on the legal or political case against Imran, which they described as a matter for Pakistan. Instead, they focused on the broader humanitarian issue of how people in detention are treated, calling it “a matter of basic humanity, whatever their politics”.

The appeal comes less than a month after 22 former international captains wrote to Pakistan Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif seeking better medical care for Imran.

That letter raised particular concern over reports that Imran had lost vision in his right eye and called for an independent medical assessment involving doctors of his choice. The former captains also urged authorities to honour weekly family visits reinstated by Pakistan’s Supreme Court and provide any treatment recommended following the assessment without delay.

It followed another appeal in February, when 14 former international captains wrote over Imran’s treatment.

Several former Pakistan stars, including Javed Miandad, Wasim Akram and Moin Khan, have also publicly raised concerns. Australia Test captain Pat Cummins has previously voiced his own concerns about Imran’s situation.

In his superb analysis of Pakistan cricket’s troubles on and off the field, Osman Samiuddin writing in Cricinfo uses the phrase “governmentalisation of the board.” It might be an awkward construction, but you can’t argue with its relevance in the subcontinent.

Governmentalisation of the cricket board has a long and hoary history here. A large section of fans thinks it’s part of the game. Success on the sports field is compensation for lack of success in other fields, and is therefore venerated and given a significance beyond its intrinsic merit. If Bangladesh beat Australia in a Test (as they did recently), it does not alter the lives of their citizens in any marked way. But it might cause them to walk a little taller for a brief while, and that’s reward enough.

Politicians (and the military, in Pakistan’s case) love the boost to their image an international win brings with it, the glow of reflected glory. There is a feel-good factor in countries that have little to feel good about.

In Asia, the government take-over is hardly commented on; many barely notice it. If sport is seen as a substitute for war, then that is certainly the better alternative. There is too the power, the money, the influence, the polishing of the public image that politicians find irresistible.

Sri Lanka have lost the right to host International Cricket Council (ICC) tournaments — most recently the inaugural Women’s Champions Trophy — because of “government interference” in their cricket board. The government-appointed Transformation Committee which oversees the game is only the latest in a list of similar committees appointed in recent years.

Blame it on the players

Bangladesh, peeved at the withdrawal of their bowler Mustafizur Rahman from the IPL this year — as instructed by the Board of Control for Cricket in India, a proxy for the Indian government — refused to send a team for the World T20 in India. This was on the instruction of Asif Nazrul, adviser in Bangladesh’s interim government then. Later he blamed the players for refusing to travel. Players are useful as excuses and punching bags.

Pakistan’s cricket board chairman Mohsin Naqvi’s day job is as Interior Minister of the country. He has now ordered seven players currently in the team trailing 0-2 in England to return to the country with one Test remaining in the series. When your team doesn’t win, make an example of the players. It’s a modern version of ancient myths where losing athletes were executed.

It ensures that the real culprits — a rotten system kept alive by the self-seeking — remain untouched, and what’s more, are seen to be doing something positive. Change is not always progress, but gives the illusion of being so.

Other occasions when Naqvi made himself a laughing stock include the time he took the Asia Cup back to Pakistan after the Indian players refused to accept it from him on winning the tournament. Churlishness begat churlishness then, and no one won.

In India, the ruling BJP has its men in key positions, and is enjoying the advantages of having the son of the Home Minister as the most powerful man in the game as Chairman of the ICC. Indian players’ boorish refusal to shake hands with their Pakistani counterparts at the Asia Cup was — in the finest traditions of the region (see Bangladesh, above) — passed off as a move by the players alone. Skipper Suryakumar Yadav dedicated the win to victims of the Pahalgam attack while the Prime Minister equated the Asia Cup win with their showing in battle, pointing out how Pakistan had lost in both cases.

Silly and dangerous

To equate sporting responses with national pride as Asian countries do is both silly and dangerous.

Yet, despite everything, India have the best system of the lot. The home season runs smoothly, players come through regularly and world class performers emerge in every generation. After India won their second successive series in Australia, the No. 1 Test team, their commentators were urging that country to follow the Indian system.

Politicians using sport and athletes to further their own agenda is not unusual. Cricket’s political power in Asia reflects the game’s extraordinary place in society. Whatever serves as the opium of the masses is always in danger of governmentalisation.