'It Was All of Us': Usman Khawaja Reopens Australia's 2026 Sandpaper Scandal, Raising Questions Over Collective Accountability

The cameras at Newlands in Cape Town captured a moment in March 2026 that would follow Australian cricket for years. Cameron Bancroft was seen handling something against the ball. It was sandpaper. Soon afterwards, the roles of captain Steve Smith and vice-captain David Warner became central to the investigation. Sanctions followed, and Australian cricket came to accept the episode as a serious breach of conduct involving three players. Eight years later, someone who was part of that dressing room has returned to challenge the established account.

Former Australian opening batter Usman Khawaja claims that the entire team knew about the ball-tampering operation. According to him, the incident was not confined to the third Test in Cape Town. Sandpaper had also been used during the second Test against South Africa at Port Elizabeth, now known as Gqeberha. Speaking to Nine newspapers, Khawaja said: 'It was all of us. Not the batters, not the bowlers, not the staff. All of us.'

The statement matters because it challenges several things simultaneously: Cricket Australia's original investigation, the public denial issued by four leading bowlers in 2026, and the cultural-reform narrative that Australian cricket developed after the scandal. Published shortly before the release of his autobiography, Sabr, Khawaja's account could move the discussion from individual misconduct towards institutional accountability.

The story began before Cape Town

Australia's 2026 tour of South Africa consisted of four Test matches. In conditions where reverse swing can become a major weapon, maintaining the condition of the ball is an important tactical skill. Bowlers attempt to preserve the shine on one side while allowing the other to deteriorate naturally. This can create movement that makes batting increasingly difficult. Deliberately damaging the ball with an external object, however, crosses the boundary between legitimate ball management and prohibited interference.

Until now, the public story has largely begun with the Cape Town Test. Television cameras caught Bancroft using sandpaper on the ball. Smith subsequently acknowledged that the leadership group had planned to alter its condition. Following the investigation, Smith and Warner received 12-month suspensions, while Bancroft was banned for nine months. Smith also lost the captaincy, and Warner was removed from leadership positions.

Cricket Australia's investigation concluded that only these three players had prior knowledge of the plan. That finding became the official foundation of the episode's public history. Head coach Darren Lehmann was cleared of direct involvement, although he resigned after the series. Australian cricket subsequently made a public commitment to improving leadership, behaviour and team culture.

Khawaja's autobiography introduces a significant alteration to that timeline. He claims that discussions about ways to rough up the ball took place during the second Test at St George's Park in Port Elizabeth. According to excerpts from his book, the discussions in the dressing room were open and light-hearted. The players eventually identified sandpaper as an effective method. Khawaja alleges that Bancroft volunteered to use it during South Africa's first innings in that match.

His account includes another significant detail. During the discussions, Smith allegedly walked away and indicated that he did not want to know about the matter. That distinction deserves careful examination. A captain distancing himself from a conversation and a captain having no knowledge of a plan are two different propositions. Khawaja's account places that difference at the centre of the debate.

Dressing-room knowledge matters more than the condition of the ball

Years of watching cricket have reinforced one recurring lesson: spectators can see the ball's movement and condition, but conversations about how that condition was produced rarely appear on the scoreboard. The central question here is therefore not how much additional swing a particular delivery generated. It is how widely information about the process was shared inside the dressing room, and whether anyone attempted to stop it.

Ball maintenance is an important part of Test cricket. Bowlers work to preserve one side's shine, allow natural wear on the other and generate reverse swing at the appropriate moment. These are legitimate skills. Deliberately damaging the ball with an external object is different. If Khawaja is correct that sandpaper was used in two consecutive Tests, the allegation describes a sustained practice rather than an isolated decision by one player.

There is also an important technical distinction. An illegally altered ball primarily benefits the bowling side, but that does not mean only bowlers can know about the process. Batters may recognise unusual movement, hear dressing-room discussions or observe their teammates' reactions. A batter's testimony can therefore carry considerable evidentiary value even if that player never personally handled the ball.

Khawaja says he remembers conversations within the team throughout the tour. He also claims that he sat beside Bancroft throughout the Newlands Test. According to him, Cricket Australia never interviewed him during its investigation. He expected investigators to contact him, but his phone never rang. When the sanctions were announced, he could not understand how the wider question of team knowledge had been left out.

This is arguably the most readily verifiable part of his account. Whether a player was interviewed can be checked against administrative records, interview lists and investigation documents. Establishing who heard what inside a dressing room, however, is considerably harder. Khawaja's claim deserves examination as testimony, but it cannot automatically be treated as conclusive proof.

Four bowlers' denial conflicts with the new account

The most sensitive part of Khawaja's statement concerns Australia's four leading bowlers. Pat Cummins, Mitchell Starc, Josh Hazlewood and Nathan Lyon issued a joint statement in 2026 denying knowledge that a foreign substance had been used on the ball. They said they became aware of the incident only after seeing it on the big screen.

That statement directly conflicts with Khawaja's latest account. On one side is a collective public denial by four players. On the other is a former teammate's claim of personal knowledge, now presented in his autobiography. The publicly available material does not yet provide decisive video, messages, written instructions or independent contemporaneous documentation that resolves the contradiction. It would therefore be wrong to declare the four bowlers guilty on the basis of Khawaja's allegation alone. It would be equally premature to dismiss his account as publicity.

Cummins' current position makes the issue particularly sensitive. He is now Australia's Test captain, and his membership of the 2026 side connects the old controversy to the present leadership structure. Khawaja has also said that he informed Cummins about the book in advance. This was therefore not an entirely unexpected disclosure for the current captain.

Former coach Darren Lehmann has also rejected the suggestion that everyone knew. Speaking to ABC, he said he did not believe that every member of the team would have been aware of the plan. He also remarked that attempts to alter the condition of the ball had long been part of international cricket. His comments raise two separate questions: where should cricket draw the boundary between legitimate ball management and illegal interference, and has the wider culture of the sport sometimes normalised behaviour that should have been challenged?

Three players were punished, but was the responsibility wider?

Khawaja has dedicated the sandpaper chapter of his autobiography to Smith, Warner and Bancroft. He argues that the three players became the public faces of a controversy in which responsibility was much wider. He also recalls speaking passionately in the dressing room after the incident, urging teammates to accept collective responsibility.

The emotional dimension of that argument is understandable. Smith, Warner and Bancroft faced intense public criticism and professional uncertainty during their suspensions. The 12-month international bans and leadership consequences were significant setbacks for Smith and Warner. Bancroft's nine-month suspension also arrived at an important early stage of his career. Khawaja's contention is that placing the entire burden on these three players allowed the wider organisation to protect itself.

However, collective responsibility cannot erase individual accountability. A player who planned an operation, another who carried it out and someone who merely heard a discussion may have different levels of responsibility. This is why Cricket Australia's investigation needed to distinguish between prior knowledge, decision-making and direct execution. Khawaja's account questions the scope of that investigation, but it does not justify declaring every member of the team equally guilty.

This is where the administrative challenge becomes clear. Following a major controversy, a governing body must act quickly to protect the credibility of the sport. Yet a public conclusion reached too quickly may later prove incomplete. If other team members were not questioned adequately, the distribution of sanctions may not reflect the full sequence of events. Conversely, if investigators interviewed all relevant individuals and new allegations conflict with the original records, the case for changing the findings becomes weaker.

The South African allegation adds another layer

Khawaja has also commented on South Africa's players. According to published reports, he suggested that South African players were considerably better at manipulating the ball than Australia. This moves the controversy beyond Australia's internal accountability and towards a wider international accusation.

This part of the account requires particular caution. Comparing another team's alleged conduct does not establish evidence of wrongdoing. Former South African captain Faf du Plessis has previously faced disciplinary proceedings involving ball tampering, but historical cases cannot establish the truth of a broader allegation about the 2026 series. No sufficiently independent evidence supporting Khawaja's comparison has yet emerged in the available reporting. It should therefore remain clearly identified as his claim.

The autobiography, timing and credibility

The timing of Khawaja's disclosure also deserves attention. His autobiography, Sabr, is scheduled for release on November 10, 2026, and the revelations appeared through a Nine newspaper exclusive three days before publication. Khawaja said that, in an ideal situation, he would not have wanted to become the person who publicly discussed the truth. He had expected someone else to speak about the events during the eight years since the scandal.

Two things can be true simultaneously. First, a player has the right to disclose personal experiences, particularly when he believes an earlier investigation was incomplete. Second, an exclusive interview immediately before an autobiography's publication carries commercial and promotional interests. The timing means that credibility cannot be assessed solely through the author's stated motives. Khawaja's willingness to include himself in the collective responsibility he describes provides a positive credibility signal, but the publication schedule is not independent corroboration.

Khawaja retired from international cricket in 2026 after playing 88 Tests. At the end of his playing career, he has made allegations that could affect both the current team's leadership and Cricket Australia's institutional credibility. His assertion that investigators never interviewed him is particularly important. If he possesses contemporaneous notes containing dates, conversations and a chronology of events from the tour, those documents could provide a new direction for the investigation.

Cricket Australia responded by saying that all relevant information presented to the organisation had been properly considered and that it remained comfortable with the findings of its original integrity process. It also stated that there remained an opportunity to present relevant information or new evidence. This is not an announcement that the investigation will immediately be reopened, but neither does it completely close the door.

The next test is documentary evidence

The easiest response would be to declare one side correct and the other mistaken. Cricket administrators, however, need answers to three questions. Was sandpaper actually used at Gqeberha? Did knowledge of the Cape Town operation extend beyond the three players originally sanctioned? And did the 2026 investigation interview everyone who might have possessed direct information about the events?

Those questions cannot be answered through book publicity, old public statements or supporters' preferences. They require contemporaneous notes, investigation records, player interviews and independent testimony. There is also a limitation concerning match results: it is impossible to calculate precisely how much an illegally altered ball changed the outcome of a Test. Yet proving that a rule was breached does not require demonstrating that the result would otherwise have been different. The integrity of the contest is sufficient in itself.

The most important legacy of the 2026 sandpaper scandal may ultimately be less about the suspensions of three players and more about how honestly a team acknowledges collective wrongdoing. Khawaja has raised the question of shared responsibility eight years later. The next issue is whether he can substantiate his account and how seriously Cricket Australia examines it. If Sabr provides new documents or a clearer chronology, Australian cricket may have to reconsider its understanding of 2026. Sometimes a team's greatest test does not arrive on the final day of a match. It arrives years later, when former teammates tell different stories about the silence they shared in the same dressing room.