I’ve been watching, along with billions of others around the world, the greatest sporting event on the planet: the FIFA World Cup.
I’ve enjoyed the spectacle as much as anyone—the millions of spectators filling stadiums across North America, the colourful clothing, painted faces and thunderous chants. The anticipation (because, let’s face it, football is mostly anticipation), and then the explosion of joy—bordering on hysteria—that follows every goal and even every near miss.
And for what, exactly?
Twenty-two players dressed in tight shirts and shorts, running around an open field, trying to kick a sewn hunk of inflated leather into the opposing team's mesh. A skill for which many of them are among the highest-paid professionals in the world.
So why does this tournament captivate billions? Why is it the greatest spectacle on Earth?
It's not simply because we are privileged to witness the extraordinary talent of ball-kicking.
The answer, I think, is that the World Cup satisfies, better than any other mass-spectacle we have, our deepest human need: belonging.
Belonging lies at the heart of almost everything we value. It shapes our families, our friendships, our religions, our nations and our communities. It is woven into our survival instinct because, throughout most of human history, those who belonged to a group stood a far better chance of surviving than those who stood alone.
The worst punishments - spiritual ones like excommunication and physical ones like banishment and imprisonment - were based on being separated from the group.
We tell stories because they enhance our sense of belonging. We embrace religions, philosophies and ideologies because they give us a shared identity. We celebrate holidays, citizenship and traditions because they remind us that we are part of something larger than ourselves. We gather for concerts and sporting events for the same reason—not merely to be entertained, but to experience belonging.
We are born into a world we did not choose, knowing neither why we are here nor what awaits us. In that uncertainty, connecting with others satisfies more than our physical need for food and shelter. It fulfils our emotional need for companionship and our intellectual search for purpose and meaning.
The need is so powerful, so fundamental, that we sometimes carry it to extraordinary—even absurd—extremes. Every time I watch fans in makeup and colourful t-shirts, waving flags and blowing horns and generally losing their shit because a ball crosses a goal line, I'm reminded of just how profoundly we need to feel like we belong.
Part of me admires it. Another part wonders what might be possible if we channelled even a fraction of that passion into causes that shape our shared future: peace, human rights, democracy and individual freedom.
If even a bit of the mass sadness and disappointment felt when our preferred team loses a soccer match could be channeled into outrage at the poverty, suffering and injustices affecting so many people around the world.
The capacity for collective commitment is clearly there. The World Cup proves it every four years. The real question is what else we might accomplish if our sense of belonging extended beyond our teams to our common humanity.