Members of the Red Devils, the official supporters’ club of the Korean national football team, and other citizens react in disbelief during a public viewing event for Korea’s Group A match against South Africa at the 2026 FIFA World Cup in North America, held at Gwanghwamun Square in central Seoul on June 25. As the national team appeared headed for defeat, many spectators buried their faces in their hands.News1
Kim Myung-hwa
The author is a playwright and director.
I am not particularly fond of sports, though I occasionally watch football. The sight of players exhausting themselves to gain possession of the ball and spectators erupting in excitement reminds me of theater. Theater pursues the human heart rather than a ball.
In fact, from the broad perspective of performance anthropology, ball sports and theater are siblings. Both belong to the realm of play rather than work, and both operate according to a temporal and spatial order distinct from ordinary life. Participants compete within a set of rules unique to their activity, while audiences observe the unfolding plot of conflict.
Performance anthropology connects such acts to ritual and pays particular attention to the community, or “communitas,” that emerges in the process. Although temporary, these ritual experiences can dissolve social boundaries and create a community in which participants unite in a shared spirit of solidarity.
Was that not what the 2002 FIFA World Cup Korea Japan meant to us? It was a moment of communitas in which society seemed to move with one heart. Men and women, young and old alike, experienced an exhilarating sense of confidence and pride that, after a difficult history, we too could prevail. It was a time when one felt moved to embrace complete strangers.
Only 24 years have passed, yet today it almost feels embarrassing to speak of community. Fierce confrontation and hostility erupt everywhere, as if everyone has become everyone else’s enemy. At times, particular individuals become outlets for collective anger and must endure the humiliation of seeing their entire existence denied.
Perhaps it is precisely because we live in such a society that we longed to win once more, if only on the football field. And when that hope was frustrated, we fell into the familiar cycle of directing our anger toward another sacrificial victim.
We are now told that a parliamentary hearing on football will soon take place. Has there not been enough outrage already? The time has come to listen to the facts and confront the limits of the structures within which we operate.
From the stock market to the electoral arena, what Korea needs today is not another victory engineered by one or two stars. What we need is a structure that people can trust, one capable of sustaining solidarity even after the cheering has faded and the crowd has gone home.
This article was originally written in Korean and translated by a bilingual reporter with the help of generative AI tools. It was then edited by a native English-speaking editor. All AI-assisted translations are reviewed and refined by our newsroom.
