By Indrajit Hazra

The World Cup is a shimmering, paradoxical beast. Following the tournament is not unlike seeing Earth from space as a ‘pale blue dot’ – except here, it’s in the form of a glorious football. And yet, it’s a palpable celebration of one of the most powerful human inventions: country.

48 of these club-countries in the latest edition – ranging from tiny island nations of Cape Verde and Curaçao to ones you don’t have to Google search like Iran and US – take physical form in this giant riot of humans cosplaying nations. Along with the Beautiful Game, you experience the thrill of what you experienced as a kid when you’d collect stamps from ‘exotic’ countries. Each team on the pitch, and the hordes cheering them from the stands and in front of screens, become a manifestation of ‘their country’, all contesting jigsaw pieces in a planet-sized puzzle.

Not too long ago, we were all under the happy, exciting thrall of globalisation, a capitalism-infused Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam. Some 20 years ago, Thomas Friedman articulated what we felt: the world is flat, a level playing field where countries, organisations, individuals competed against each other in a global field keeping scores. Today, we live in an even more globalised world – of the internet, streaming entertainment, instant communication, social media, global supply chains that go beyond products and services…And yet today, pushback to globe-isation has never been stronger. The notion of nation being solidified by protectionism and xenophobia is not only being tolerated but embraced.

Which is why in the face of such growing anti-globalisation – evident in anti-immigrant sentiment, great walls of tariffs, identities based on threat perceptions from anything and anyone not in ‘one’s own image’ – the World Cup is such a powerful anomaly. Its genius doesn’t lie in dismissing the astounding variety that nations contain, but in celebrating it through footballing jousts.

And the World Cup is a beautiful paradox – football-playing nations competing against each other for sporting glory only to drive home the point that the world is one singular play-ground.

When spectators roared with delight at Messi’s third goal against Algeria on Thursday; or were in sheer awe of Cape Verde goalkeeper Vozinha single-handedly (with two gloved hands) holding back tournament favourites Spain from breaching the post on Monday; or revelled in Japan’s kendo-style performance against legacy side.

Netherlands the same day, their countrymen and women felt the full force of belonging that the socially-constructed ‘nation’ can provide.
But at the same time, everyone watching the World Cup – regardless of which ‘nation-club’ they belong to, or even if their country isn’t playing – are mystically swayed by a spectre of trans-national comradeship that is in scarce supply outside the football fields where goalposts are being constantly changed.

The bonhomie among players from different countries, the mutual respect, the sheer joy of finding kindred spirits, no matter the colour of jerseys or relations between govts, provide a profound contrast to the fragmented, fractured, and fenced-off world that lies ‘outside’.
After Germany’s 7-1 trouncing of minnows Curaçao last Sunday, we witnessed astrange gathering. Joining a post-match prayer circle of Curaçao players on the pitch were German midfielder Felix Nmechaand centre-back Jonathan Tah. As Nmecha later revealed when asked about it, ‘In the game we are opponents. But after the game we are all Christians, we are all brothers.’

This brotherhood of football is something to behold. The world outside the World Cup could try and regale in it.

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