The return of international cricket to Pakistan was not just a sporting revival; it was a symbolic milestone loaded with pride, hope, and emotional rehabilitation. For over a decade, Pakistan’s cricketing arenas carried a tragic emptiness, haunted by the memory of the 2009 attack on the Sri Lankan team. So when international teams began returning, starting with Zimbabwe and later Sri Lanka and others, there was a collective sigh of relief: Pakistan was once again ready to host world-class cricket.

This development certainly deserves applause, especially for the resilience shown by the Sri Lankan team, which continued to play despite the blast that occurred in Islamabad. Their commitment to stand with Pakistan in a moment of insecurity will remain a moment of profound sportsmanship and courage.

However, while there is every reason to appreciate the return of cricket, there is also a need to critically examine how Pakistan has attempted to secure visiting teams, and the message that such extreme security conveys to both guests and its own citizens. The intention behind extraordinary measures is understandable: no one wants to see history repeat itself. Yet when entire roads are blocked, bridges are militarised, and civilian mobility is paralysed for hours, a paradox emerges: the more security a nation displays, the more insecure it begins to appear.

The idea that “more security equals more safety” is not always true, especially when the scale of security arrangements begins to resemble those of a battlefield rather than a sporting event. A cricket match is supposed to feel festive, not like the arrival of a high-risk military convoy. When roads remain........

© The Friday Times