Team captain Martin Ødegaard leads Norway's Viking Row
after reaching the last sixteen of the 2026 FIFA World Cup
I.
First we had the Mexican Wave - originating in US sports arenas in the late 1970s and early 1980s [1], but which gained its name and came to the attention of the wider world during the 1986 FIFA World Cup in Mexico.
Then we had the Icelandic Thunderclap - a synchronized chant that starts with a slow, deliberate clap paired with a shout of Huh! Growing progressively faster and more intense, it culminates in a thunderous roar (thus the name).
Again, it's thanks to TV that it became universally associated with Iceland and their supporters during the UEFA Euro 2016 tournament (the one in which Iceland - the smallest nation ever to qualify - knocked out England to qualify for the quarter-finals). But just as the Mexican wave is actually American in origin, the thunderclap has its origins in Scotland; supporters of Motherwell having a very similar clap-chant routine.
Whilst the Mexican wave is essentially a bit of harmless fun which frequently serves to amuse spectators during a dull moment or a long stoppage in play, for Icelandic supporters the thunderclap has a spiritual dimension known as samheldni - a concept to do with cohesion and solidarity and which refers to the bond that keeps a people unified and strong.
And now we have the Norwegian Viking Row - a synchronised action and chant performed by the Norwegian football team and their fans - which has become the viral phenomenon of the 2026 FIFA World Cup, capturing the imagination of millions of people around the world: click here.
Commencing with the sound of a loud horn, it involves participants sitting as if in a longboat and - in unison to an accelerating drumbeat - drawing an imaginary oar through water while chanting Ro (no prizes for guessing what word this is the Norwegian spelling of).
As Norway's star striker Erling Haaland said on Instagram alongside a clip of the squad rowing after their victory over the Ivory Coast (sending them into the last sixteen): This is bigger than football - and, as a matter of fact, I think it is - although what this means exactly is as yet unspoken.
It may be something that was consciously devised (by school teacher Ole Frøystad), carefully choreographed, and massively promoted online, but, arguably, it taps into something ancient, authentic, and magical; just like the runic-style lettering and numbers used on the players' shirts [2].
II.
However, as Jon Henely points out in an article in today's Guardian, not everyone is impressed; "with some noting that the Vikings' reputation is primarily for looting, pillaging and general brutality" [3].
The novelist and Professor of English Janne Stigen Drangsholt, for example, used her column in Norway's leading newspaper to criticise what she perceived to be an unhealthy masculine aesthetic.
This is really disappointing coming as it does from such an intelligent woman. It feels like a textbook manifestation of what the late cultural theorist Mark Fisher called the 'Vampire Castle' - a class of bourgeois critics who suck the joy and innocence out of solidarity, driven by a deep mistrust and contempt for anything invested with desire that arises from ordinary people [4].
To be that mistrustful of a collective ritual reveals the very issue Fisher diagnosed; an impulse to pathologise the longing of young, white working-class males to experience a sense of belonging and togetherness, reducing a harmless celebration to a toxic vibe.
"Others", again to quote Henely, "have expressed concern about the use of Norse imagery, noting that in Scandinavia Norse symbolism is now associated with far-right, nationalist and neo-Nazi groups" [5] - and, somewhat amusingly, "Norway’s neighbours have complained that they were Vikings too" [6] and that they too once rowed long boats and wore the mandatory horned helmets, etc.
Po-faced Norse historians can't help pointing out what they term inaccuracies in another attempt to spoil the celebrations: As a matter of fact, the Vikings didn't do this and didn't wear that. Regardless of what these killjoys say, however, "the chant has won over many Norwegians, who have posted countless videos of themselves rowing" [7] and Norwegian members of parliament have not only dismissed criticism as absurd, they have taken part in a row themselves, organised by the speaker.
It may, ultimately, be ersatz ethno-nationalism designed for a digital age, but it beats singing 'Wonderwall'.
Notes
[1] On 15 November 1979, the wave originated at a National Hockey League game between the Colorado Rockies and Montreal Canadiens at McNichols Sports Arena in Denver, Colorado. Credit for its invention is given to professional cheerleader Krazy George Henderson.
The earliest available video documentation of a wave, led by Henderson, was recorded on 15 October 1981, at a Major League Baseball game in Oakland, California.
[2] Designed by Nike, the geometric, angular font draws heavily from the Elder Futhark, which is the oldest known runic alphabet used by the Norse and Germanic peoples. Runic fonts have seen numerous revivals over the years and were central to 18th century Scandinavian nationalism, 19th century Germanic occultism, and 20th century Norse paganism.
[3] Jon Henley, '"Bigger than football": Norway fans' Viking row makes waves at World Cup', The Guardian (3 July 2026): click here.
[4] See Mark Fisher, 'Exiting the Vampire Castle' (2013), this important essay can be found in k-punk: The Collected and Unpublished Writings of Mark Fisher (2004 - 2016), ed. Darren Ambrose (Repeater Books, 2018), pp. 659-667.
[5] Jon Henley, The Guardian (3 July 2026).
[6] Ibid.
[7] Ibid.
