Haze in Indonesia and the question of BWF's double standard: Ashmita Chaliha speaks out

The court was shrouded in thick haze, not from morning mist or incense from nearby temples. It was pollution, the kind that Ashmita Chaliha, India's top women's singles player at the Indonesia Masters Super 100, had to face when stepping onto the court. She didn't just compete; she raised a bigger question: why can conditions at a lower-tier tournament be so poor, while tournaments in India are scrutinized down to the smallest detail? This is not the first time BWF has been questioned about venue standards. But this time, the voice belongs to a player in top form, who just experienced a highly successful World Championships in New Delhi, where she was praised by the Badminton World Federation itself. The contrast between a perfectly organized India and a hazy Indonesia creates a haunting paradox. Chaliha, 26, is in the prime of her career. She arrived in Indonesia as the top seed, a position reflecting a world ranking around 50-80. Two consecutive wins over Pornpicha Choeikeewong (21-17, 23-21) and Goh Jin Wei (10-21, 21-10, 21-17) show she is performing at the level expected of a top seed, but the notable detail is not in the scores. It lies in her having to compete in air she described as 'hazy like smog'. I have followed badminton for years, and I know that playing conditions don't just affect results; they directly affect athletes' health. When I was a liaison reporter with a club's medical team in Binh Duong, I witnessed players struggling with respiratory issues on heavily polluted days. They didn't say it, but I saw them breathing harder, moving slower, and their shots becoming less precise. That's why I always question air quality standards at tournaments. Chaliha didn't just complain. She asked a direct question: 'Imagine if this tournament were held in India, would BWF react the same way?' This question touches a systemic issue: the inequality in monitoring and enforcing standards among member nations. While tournaments in India like the India Open (Super 750) have faced intense criticism over air quality and hygiene, tournaments in Indonesia receive less scrutiny. Anders Antonsen withdrew from the 2026 India Open and accepted a fine over pollution concerns. Mia Blichfeldt also spoke out about hygiene issues. But when an Indian player criticizes conditions in Indonesia, the story takes on a different tone. This raises a big question about BWF's role. Is the organization applying a double standard, depending on commercial and political pressure from member nations? Or is it simply that lower-tier events like Super 100 don't receive adequate oversight from BWF? In reality, Super 100 is the lowest tier in the World Tour system, with the lowest prize money and ranking points. Top players rarely compete, and thus media pressure is lower. This creates a gap in accountability. But there's a contrarian angle I want to offer. Perhaps Chaliha's voice isn't solely about her health. She just experienced a World Championships in New Delhi, where she not only competed but witnessed significant investment from the Indian government (through SAI) and the Badminton Association of India (BAI). She publicly thanked them. When she arrived in Indonesia and saw poorer conditions, she might have felt pride in her country and wanted to assert that India is doing better. This doesn't diminish the legitimacy of her complaint, but it shows her voice may be driven by multiple factors, including national pride and personal brand building. Moreover, this story isn't just about Indonesia or India. It's about a global issue: air quality at sports venues. Many Southeast Asian countries face severe haze pollution, and badminton tournaments are often held indoors, but air filtration systems aren't always up to standard. For players, competing in poor air can lead to acute respiratory problems, affecting performance and even long-term health. This is a medical issue, not just an organizational one. I recall a time at a tournament in Vietnam when I saw a young player coughing continuously after a match. He didn't say anything, but I knew he had inhaled polluted air throughout the match. Later, I investigated and found that the arena's ventilation system was old and poorly maintained. No one spoke up because the tournament was small and lacked media attention. This shows the issue isn't unique to Indonesia; it exists in many places, including Vietnam. Chaliha has done something few players dare to do: she used her voice to question a systemic issue. This requires courage, as she could be seen by BWF as 'bringing the sport into disrepute.' But she cleverly framed her question as a hypothetical, avoiding direct confrontation. This is a smart tactic. From my professional perspective, this issue can be addressed by requiring BWF to set minimum air quality standards for all tournaments, regardless of tier. This could include installing certified air filtration systems, real-time air quality monitoring, and allowing players to withdraw without penalty if conditions are substandard. This would protect athletes' health and create fairness across tournaments. But will BWF listen? History shows that sports organizations often respond slowly to reform demands. However, Chaliha's voice, combined with India's successful hosting of the World Championships, could create new pressure. If more players speak out, BWF will be forced to act. For Vietnamese badminton, this story is a lesson. We need to look at our tournament system and ask ourselves: are we ensuring the best playing conditions for our athletes? Are we listening to their voices? The answer may be uncomfortable, but it needs to be faced. When I look at the numbers from Chaliha's matches, I see a player with good recovery ability, but I also see an athlete competing under less-than-ideal conditions. The 10-21 first-game loss to Goh Jin Wei could be due to a slow start, but it could also be the effect of polluted air. This makes me wonder: without the haze, could she have won more easily? We'll never know. Chaliha's story is not just about a specific tournament. It's about the responsibility of sports organizations to protect athletes' health, no matter where they compete. It's about listening to the voices of those who actually play, who understand best how conditions affect their bodies. And ultimately, it's about asking: if we accept double standards in sports, can we trust fairness in other areas? This question extends beyond badminton, but it starts on hazy courts like this one.