Haris Rauf, Sahibzada Farhan parrot Pak Army propaganda in Asia Cup: What India must do under Operation Sindoor 2.0 to end Pakistan’s disinformation loop

Sunday’s Asia Cup 2025 Super Four clash in Dubai should have been measured in runs and wickets. Instead, it was measured in gestures: Haris Rauf’s fighter-jet mimicry and his ‘6-0’ flash; Sahibzada Farhan’s gun-like bat celebration. India’s openers, Shubman Gill and Abhishek Sharma, put together a blistering 105-run start, and India chased 172 with authority. But the conversation after the match pivoted away from cricket and toward a spectacle of political theatre on the boundary ropes.  This was not ordinary sledging. It was a deliberate performance, a replay of state narratives, broadcast to millions. When an international athlete uses a televised platform to signal disputed military claims or to enact symbols of violence, sport becomes a megaphone for politics. That is corrosive, and the International Cricket Council (ICC) and national boards must treat it as such.  Propaganda on the outfield: Gesture as message Haris Rauf’s gestures, a fighter-jet being struck down and shouting ‘6-0’ during practice sessions, were widely interpreted to misleading claims promoted by Pakistani Army after suffering a humiliating setback during Operation Sindoor earlier this year. WATCH: Harris Rauf was instigating Indian fans during the India vs Pakistan matchHe was gesturing with his hands that planes have crashed.This disgusting and incompetent player was also chanting 6-0 during practice sessions. pic.twitter.com/zhwQGhYHEZ— Sensei Kraken Zero (@YearOfTheKraken) September 21, 2025 Sahibzada Farhan’s earlier “gun” celebration after his pointless half-century also cemented the impression that these were not isolated emotional outbursts but part of a pattern: sporting acts recast as political messaging, and a brazen support to terrorism exported from Pakistan. It is worth noting that India and Pakistan’s relationship deteriorated after the Pahalgam terror attack in April this year, when Pakistani terrorists gunned down innocent tourists after checking if they were Hindus. Farhan’s gun gesture is therefore construed as an implicit support to terrorists who wreaked havoc in the picturesque valley of Pahalgam. The result was a match in which the scoreboard mattered less to some players than the narrative they wanted to sell.  Yes Sahibzada Farhan, in Pahalgam Hindus were massacred with similar gun shots after taking down the pants to confirm the religion.Thank you @BCCI for ensuring funds reach the sponsors of Terrorism.#INDvPAK pic.twitter.com/7tbpfUVRz7— Kashmiri Hindu (@BattaKashmiri) September 21, 2025 Rauf and Farhan’s gestures reflect a deeper and incorrigible malaise in Pakistani society Haris Rauf’s fighter-jet mimicry and Sahibzada Farhan’s gun-like celebration were not spontaneous acts of aggression but signs of a deeper malaise in Pakistani society. When national athletes, admired by millions, casually recycle the Pakistani Army’s propaganda, it shows how far supremacist narratives have seeped into every aspect of public life. Cricket, instead of uniting people, becomes just another theatre to broadcast the delusions engineered by Rawalpindi. This behaviour is not accidental; it is the product of decades of systematic indoctrination. The Pakistani military, aided by clerics and a complicit media, has conditioned generations to equate “honour” with hostility towards India and to see jihadist violence as noble resistance. In this warped ecosystem, defeats are rebranded as victories, humiliation is paraded as glory, and even celebrated elites like cricketers are rewarded for repeating lies instead of confronting truth. The tragedy is not that Pakistanis lack access to facts, but that they have been trained to dismiss them outright. Independent satellite imagery, international reports, and even first-hand evidence of battlefield losses are rejected in favour of comforting slogans like “6-0” or theatrical gestures on the field. Supremacist conditioning has made society so gullible that propaganda is not just consumed but celebrated, no matter how divorced from reality it is. Rauf and Farhan, therefore, are not outliers but mirrors of their nation’s psyche. Their gestures symbolise a country where narratives matter more than evidence, where deception is worn as patriotism, and where entire generations have been taught to exalt fantasies of supremacy over the hard truths of decline. The rot runs deeper than two cricketers, it defines a society trapped in its own lies, unwilling and unable to wake up from the delusion. Why this isn’t just about cricket To understand why Pakistani players performed in this way, we have to look beyond the stadium. For months now, the aftermath of cross-border strikes has been fought as much in the media and the information space as it was on maps. Independent analysis and commercial satellite imagery released after the strikes showed significant damage to several Pakistani military sites, and open-source imagery and reporting were used to substantiat

Sep 23, 2025 1

Haris Rauf, Sahibzada Farhan parrot Pak Army propaganda in Asia Cup: What India must do under Operation Sindoor 2.0 to end Pakistan’s disinformation loop
Sahibzada Farhan Haris rauf India Pakistan Asia Cup

Sunday’s Asia Cup 2025 Super Four clash in Dubai should have been measured in runs and wickets. Instead, it was measured in gestures: Haris Rauf’s fighter-jet mimicry and his ‘6-0’ flash; Sahibzada Farhan’s gun-like bat celebration. India’s openers, Shubman Gill and Abhishek Sharma, put together a blistering 105-run start, and India chased 172 with authority. But the conversation after the match pivoted away from cricket and toward a spectacle of political theatre on the boundary ropes. 

This was not ordinary sledging. It was a deliberate performance, a replay of state narratives, broadcast to millions. When an international athlete uses a televised platform to signal disputed military claims or to enact symbols of violence, sport becomes a megaphone for politics. That is corrosive, and the International Cricket Council (ICC) and national boards must treat it as such. 

Propaganda on the outfield: Gesture as message

Haris Rauf’s gestures, a fighter-jet being struck down and shouting ‘6-0’ during practice sessions, were widely interpreted to misleading claims promoted by Pakistani Army after suffering a humiliating setback during Operation Sindoor earlier this year.

Sahibzada Farhan’s earlier “gun” celebration after his pointless half-century also cemented the impression that these were not isolated emotional outbursts but part of a pattern: sporting acts recast as political messaging, and a brazen support to terrorism exported from Pakistan. It is worth noting that India and Pakistan’s relationship deteriorated after the Pahalgam terror attack in April this year, when Pakistani terrorists gunned down innocent tourists after checking if they were Hindus. Farhan’s gun gesture is therefore construed as an implicit support to terrorists who wreaked havoc in the picturesque valley of Pahalgam. The result was a match in which the scoreboard mattered less to some players than the narrative they wanted to sell. 

Rauf and Farhan’s gestures reflect a deeper and incorrigible malaise in Pakistani society

Haris Rauf’s fighter-jet mimicry and Sahibzada Farhan’s gun-like celebration were not spontaneous acts of aggression but signs of a deeper malaise in Pakistani society. When national athletes, admired by millions, casually recycle the Pakistani Army’s propaganda, it shows how far supremacist narratives have seeped into every aspect of public life. Cricket, instead of uniting people, becomes just another theatre to broadcast the delusions engineered by Rawalpindi.

This behaviour is not accidental; it is the product of decades of systematic indoctrination. The Pakistani military, aided by clerics and a complicit media, has conditioned generations to equate “honour” with hostility towards India and to see jihadist violence as noble resistance. In this warped ecosystem, defeats are rebranded as victories, humiliation is paraded as glory, and even celebrated elites like cricketers are rewarded for repeating lies instead of confronting truth.

The tragedy is not that Pakistanis lack access to facts, but that they have been trained to dismiss them outright. Independent satellite imagery, international reports, and even first-hand evidence of battlefield losses are rejected in favour of comforting slogans like “6-0” or theatrical gestures on the field. Supremacist conditioning has made society so gullible that propaganda is not just consumed but celebrated, no matter how divorced from reality it is.

Rauf and Farhan, therefore, are not outliers but mirrors of their nation’s psyche. Their gestures symbolise a country where narratives matter more than evidence, where deception is worn as patriotism, and where entire generations have been taught to exalt fantasies of supremacy over the hard truths of decline. The rot runs deeper than two cricketers, it defines a society trapped in its own lies, unwilling and unable to wake up from the delusion.

Why this isn’t just about cricket

To understand why Pakistani players performed in this way, we have to look beyond the stadium. For months now, the aftermath of cross-border strikes has been fought as much in the media and the information space as it was on maps. Independent analysis and commercial satellite imagery released after the strikes showed significant damage to several Pakistani military sites, and open-source imagery and reporting were used to substantiate those assessments.

At the same time, images and footage from funerals and public displays suggested official-level attendance at ceremonies for Lashkar-e-Taiba and Jaish-e-Mohammad terrorists killed in those operations, a development widely reported and videos going viral on social media. Those facts, and the way they were framed by competing actors, shaped a charged domestic atmosphere. India even released the names and details of LeT and JeM terrorists neutralized during the first phase of Operation Sindoor.

In that atmosphere, the Pakistan Army and parts of the country’s civil administration have repeatedly offered a counter-narrative that reframes military setbacks as triumphs. Whether by amplifying selective footage, circulating contested images, or publicising sympathetic spins, the state’s information apparatus has created a feedback loop. The public sees a steady stream of messages that valorise resistance, sanctify sacrifice, and proclaim moral victory, even where the evidence points to a different, bleaker reality.

A two-metric logic: How losses in battlefield are repackaged based on Islamic indoctrination

The crucial point is that Pakistani propaganda works because its script is disarmingly simple and emotionally charged. Victory is declared domestically on the basis of two crude metrics: first, whether a Hindu or perceived ‘enemy’ was killed, for when violence is framed through a communal lens, even the death of a single adversary is sanctified as sacrificial success and made politically useful.

And second, whether the integrity of the Muslim community or territory was preserved, for as long as the Ummah is said to remain intact and no land was ceded, the narrative can be spun as proof of triumph despite catastrophic losses in men, machinery, or infrastructure. By reducing complex strategic outcomes into primal symbols of blood and land, Pakistan’s establishment ensures that defeats are repackaged as victories and delusions are passed off as national pride.

From the pulpit to the pavilion: Radicalisation’s reach

The propaganda is not just an elite exercise; it seeps into mosques, schools, social feeds and playgrounds. When state-sanctioned or state-tolerated voices elevate militant imagery and endorse martyrdom narratives, radicalised ideas gain traction among impressionable cohorts. That can mean a teenager in a small town hearing religious justification for violence, or a sportsman absorbing a martial, triumphalist worldview that recasts provocation as honour. In such an ecosystem, it is not surprising that gestures on a cricket field mimic symbols more at home in combat zones than in athletic arenas.

This is not a claim about ordinary citizens, but about the effect of sustained messaging engineered by powerful institutions, and supported by national figures. When cricketers like Haris Rauf and Sahibzada Farhan make gestures to amplify Pakistani Army propaganda talking points and legitimise terror attacks in India, they are essentially further brainwashing a dangerously radicalised Pakistani society. No amount of “people-to-people” ties can undo this damage, as witnessed over the last 76 years. So while the Indian left would be inclined to blame Modi, Shah, the Indian government, etc., for the recent acrimony in the relationship between the two countries, the primary reason, nevertheless, is the deep-rooted Islamic supremacism that is now deeply ingrained in the Pakistani psyche. 

What India must do to stop Pakistan’s jihadist fantasies and subsequent propaganda ops

This is the psyche that wants to bleed India through a thousand cuts, keep exporting terrorists to India as long as Pakistan exists, and kill as many Hindus as possible, which their Islamic clerics justify citing numerous Quranic verses. This is why waiting out Pakistan’s flirtation with radicalisation is not an option for the Indian government. 

What we witnessed on the ground during Sunday’s match is a cautionary tale of how Pakistan has successfully indoctrinated not just its masses but even its elites. The only way India can knock some sense of reality into this deluded population is to preempt any wrongdoing from their side and destroy the terror camps established and rebuilt there. Waiting for a trigger to retaliate means we are already allowing them to accomplish one of their objectives, which is to kill Hindus, allowing them to “get a place in heaven reserved.”

Secondly, the next phase of Operation Sindoor should not just destroy their airbases, pummel their strategic centres, and demolish their terror camps; it should also capture some area of enemy territory, just like Israel did in 1967 during the 6-day war. It would then become impossible for the Pakistani state administration and the Army to spin the humiliating defeat in combat as a victory, since Pakistan losing some of its territory would mean the Muslim Ummah’s loss.

Yes, Pakistan would still come up with propaganda tropes like ‘6-0’ or ‘centre of gravity’ to hoodwink its population, but one hopes a more proactive India and territorial losses would deter Pakistani elites from readily enlisting themselves to become tools of Pakistan Army’s propaganda psyops in deceiving their own people.

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