VICTOR JOECKS: What Americans can learn from World Cup fans

VICTOR JOECKS: What Americans can learn from World Cup fans The World Cup offered a vivid illustration of why Americans need not feel embarrassed about their national heroes and heritage. While only Argentina and Spain contested Sunday’s final, supporters from numerous nations enthusiastically backed their teams. Norwegian fans turned their “Viking Row” chant into a widespread phenomenon, moving in unison as if rowing a longboat and shouting “Row!” in stadiums, Times Square, classrooms, nursing homes and even the Norwegian Parliament. Norway’s squad embraced the Viking imagery, posing for an epic photograph with players dressed as Vikings, complete with spears, swords and shields. The image drew considerable media attention. Good Morning America featured Norwegian fans performing the row, and the segment noted that the chant “had Norwegian shot fans connected and had them row.” The Athletic observed that the chant “'captured the American imagination,'” while the New York Times gushed, “Norway's shot fans person rowed done this World Cup similar Viking conquerors piloting a longboat a 1000 years ago.” A look at the actual Vikings reveals a starkly different picture from the festive scene. Twelve hundred years ago, encountering a Viking longboat would have inspired fear rather than delight. Vikings used their seafaring skill to raid and plunder European coastal settlements, sacking monasteries, burning villages and taking slaves. In some instances, they killed a master’s slaves so the servants could continue to work in the afterlife. Other teams also drew on martial legacies without hesitation. Mexico played its final World Cup match at Estadio Azteca in Mexico City before losing to England. Prior to the game, Mexico boasted a remarkable record—70 wins, 17 draws and just two losses—largely fueled by the fervor of its home crowd. The Aztecs believed their god Huitzilopochtli slew his siblings at birth, turning their bodies into stars as a perpetual reminder of warfare’s necessity. They held that this deity feasted on human blood and hearts, a belief that led to regular human sacrifice; estimates suggest the Aztecs may have sacrificed as many as 20,000 people each year, possibly more. Japan’s squad is known as the Samurai Blue, a nod to the warrior class renowned for swordsmanship and horsemanship. Samurai were also notorious for brutality, beheading defeated foes and burning villages, practices that shocked European observers who witnessed them testing blade sharpness on commoners. Despite these histories, Norway, Mexico and Japan did not shy away from their symbols. Fans displayed flags proudly, players wore historic regalia without apology, and the press largely avoided mentioning the violent chapters attached to those emblems. The treatment of American history stands in stark contrast. The New York Times’ 1619 Project sought to reframe the nation’s founding by placing slavery at the center of the American narrative. Although the project contains numerous historical inaccuracies, many school districts have adopted curricula based on it. Progressive commentators routinely denigrate figures such as George Washington and Thomas Jefferson for owning slaves. In numerous localities, Columbus Day has been replaced with Indigenous Peoples’ Day, and land‑acknowledgment statements are frequently deployed, implying that the United States rests on an illegitimate foundation. Even the Smithsonian has devoted years to advancing a critical view of America’s story. Citizens around the globe recognize something that once seemed self‑evident: national pride does not require endorsing every element of a country’s past. It is possible to retain admirable qualities from a people who also committed grave wrongs. If Norwegians can celebrate Vikings without reservation, Americans ought to feel free to honor their founders and heritage without shame.