Pakistan, July 30 -- In December 2013, five female players from a cricket club in Pakistan reported incidents of misconduct against the club's president. Rather than leading to any form of responsibility, their claims led to their own suspension. Each was given a nine-month ban. There was no investigation, no safety measures, and no assistance provided. The signal was very clear: in Pakistan's sports organizations, voicing concerns is frequently met with punishment, not recognition.
Although the global sports community has had to confront multiple abuse scandals in recent years, with the Larry Nassar case in the U.S. being one of the most prominent examples, discussions about this issue in Pakistan remain limited. There is increasing international awareness of the problem and the importance of protective measures, yet in Pakistan, institutional silence persists, allowing the issue to go unnoticed. Athletes—particularly women—are forced to deal with a situation where abuse occurs, but the systems designed to address it are absent.
The sorrow stems not only from the abuse itself but also from the insufficient reaction. The Pakistan Olympic Association (POA), the main organization responsible for sports administration, has documented very few official reports of abuse. This lack of reporting is not an indication of well-being; it reflects a deep sense of distrust. Survivors simply do not have confidence that the system will safeguard them.
However, when we look at the limited data available, a different scenario arises. A 2020 survey of 600 female athletes in Pakistan—most of whom had competed internationally—revealed that almost half confessed to facing harassment throughout their careers. None of them reported it. Another study indicated that 44 percent of female athletes identified coaches as the source of harassment, while 32 percent blamed other men involved in the sport. The common thread was silence. Although some cases eventually come to light, the outcomes are frequently severe. An up-and-coming cricketer from Multan took her own life after reporting harassment. In another instance, two field hockey players were suspended after one accused her coach of entering her room without permission and touching her—allegations that became public through a video. In both situations, the institutional response concentrated more on managing the narrative rather than addressing the claims. During interviews for my research, officials from the POA recognized the disparity between policy and practice. One admitted that although reporting forms are accessible on the website, most athletes are unaware of their existence. Another mentioned that the organization conducts seminars and educational programs to increase awareness, but acknowledged that the safeguarding system has not been implemented by most national sports federations. The outcome is a void—one where a framework exists in theory but fails in practice.
This gap is not specific to Pakistan. Not long ago, even in nations with more developed frameworks, protecting athletes was either absent or poorly executed. The United States introduced its SafeSport Center in 2017, prompted by widespread criticism after the Nassar case. The Center operates independently, is legally required, and has the authority to investigate and impose penalties. Since its establishment, more than 10,000 complaints have been submitted, and millions of athletes, trainers, and guardians have participated in training programs via its online system.
Austria took a comparable route following claims made by former ski athletes. Safe Sport Austria was established with government support and a specific mission to provide assistance, education, and investigations. Similarly, the UK has also progressed toward change, testing a centralized reporting initiative named Sport Integrity, following exposure of widespread emotional and physical abuse within its gymnastics community.
These systems have several shared characteristics. Firstly, independence. The oversight agencies are structurally separated from sports associations, minimizing potential conflicts of interest. However, the Integrity Unit must be a component of each individual sports organization. Secondly, accessibility. Athletes can submit reports through online platforms or by phone, and they can do so anonymously if desired. Thirdly, education. Individuals who have experienced issues, coaches, and administrative staff receive training to comprehend their rights and duties. Lastly, legal validity. These organizations are either established or supported by national legislation, giving them credibility and power.
On the other hand, Pakistan's existing framework is missing all four key components. The POA's committee addressing harassment consists of people who are closely associated with national federations. The process is not supported by legislation. There is no specific budget allocated. And most importantly, the system is optional—there is no obligation for federations to implement it.
The cultural aspect adds further complexity. In a society where even casual discussions about abuse are silenced, raising one's voice in the male-dominated realm of sports can be both professionally and personally risky. Survivors worry about being isolated, not believed, or ignored. A psychologist I spoke with referred to it as "a society that isn't supportive of survivors and often begins blaming and shaming the victim." Is this reality present in our daily lives? This fear is intensified by the belief that even when systems are in place, they lack real power and can be easily exploited.
It would be unjust to claim that no advancements have occurred. The POA has made efforts to start changes. Reporting mechanisms have been established, and protection measures are now at least referenced in certain policy conversations. However, awareness is still minimal, and trust is even more so. Some independent experts were invited to join the committee addressing Abuse and Harassment within the POA, but they refused because of the absence of a formal structure and lack of payment.
Until this system is restructured with an emphasis on autonomy, legal power, financial stability, and most importantly, trust from athletes, the silence will remain. And in this context, silence does not imply safety—it signifies suppression.
Pakistan is at a critical juncture. Other nations have demonstrated that protection is not only essential but achievable. The following article in this series will examine what an effective and culturally suitable system for reporting abuse might resemble in Pakistan, along with insights that can be borrowed from other regions. Because, without establishing a secure sporting atmosphere, we will keep letting down the individuals we profess to honor—our athletes.