Petul Corner
I don’t know if it’s just me, but this World Cup feels weird.
Personally, the ’90 World Cup is the one I remember with the most nostalgia. While in our fifth year of high school, it took us three months to graduate that June. They were those times in life when any second was an excuse for a meeting. The games on television accompanied that. A friend spent it in the hospital and it was impossible for us not to shout the goals, which could be heard throughout the ward. We collect stamps with fervor. Un’estate Italian was more than just a song. His notes flowed from ear to heart. Despite the disappointment of his lack of goals, that European summer was projected to an entire world, which, suddenly, seemed to put itself on pause. And many of us would have wanted, even for a moment, to be a little more Italian.
The message says “welcome.” But the country does not sound like an invitation.
True, I speak from personal nostalgia. But it wasn’t just Italy. This didn’t just happen in ’90. This is precisely what the World Cups caused. What we know as “soft diplomacy”, dressed as a balloon. It’s what the hosts did. At the time, Spain did it, which thought it necessary to finally show itself democratic. France, in its eternal effort to project itself as universal. Germany, as kind. South Africa, reconciled. Brazil, happy. And Russia, less threatening. And all tying up their particularity with a message that was always the same: Get to know us. The doors are open. The World Cup, thus, was a showcase… it was an invitation.
But in each of these messages, the countries had concrete actions that gave them credibility. In Spain 82, Franco had died seven years earlier. Democracy was advancing and integration into Europe was underpinned. France symbolized that universalism with a diverse and multicultural team. Germany, in ’06, let alone. Its reunification was fifteen years away and two generations separated the country from the horrors of history. South Africa arrived with a defeated apartheid. And so, many more: Brazil with its economic optimism of the moment, and Qatar positioning itself as more than a desert. In each one, a maxim that I once heard from an illustrious diplomat was fulfilled: Projection – externally – is accompanied by congruence – internally.
I don’t know if it’s just me, but this World Cup feels weird. First, because its triple headquarters disappeared the idea of knowing, with a tournament, a culture. Mexico could not differ more culturally from its co-hosts. And Canada, I assume, could not be experiencing a greater desire to distance itself from its southern neighbor. The United States, meanwhile, took center stage in the tournament. But he has to do it at a time when his message does not resonate as an invitation. The tournament page offers a perfect slogan: “Ready to welcome the world once again“Ready to welcome the world again. But there is no need to emphasize the incongruity. What will they give us? With a team of ICE in balaclavas? Who will give that welcome, Stephen Miller, Thomas Homan… Kristi Noem, perhaps?
I’m sorry, but this World Cup feels different. Not because the United States lacks the ability to organize something great. On the contrary, I think we are ready to witness an impressive spectacle of history. And not because previous countries were ever perfect. No. But for decades—my entire conscious life, in fact—all these tournaments said “here we are,” “get to know us.” That’s the same thing from the 90s: help yourself feel a little Italian today. This global party arrived, however, at a time, in a place, where the message is much less clear. At a time when the invitation doesn’t feel real. And when diplomacy tries to erase what cannot be forgotten.