MUNICH, Germany—For over a half-century now, Germans have been plagued by their history. The specter of the Second World War looms large, reinforced by omnipresent reminders of a then-young country’s not-so-youthful indiscretions. One need only take a stroll through the aeronautics exhibit at the Deutsches Museum to experience the collective sense of shame. On placards bearing identifying names like Messerschmidt, swastikas prominently adorn tail wings. On the planes themselves, however, those haunting emblems have been effaced completely, painted over by a conscientious curatorial staff.

When I first visited Germany a few years ago, someone pointed out the conspicuous absence of any symbols of nationalism. Having witnessed the profusion of stars and stripes in the U.S. post-9/11, this struck me as quite odd. Germany’s bare flagpoles were part and parcel of the same sheepishness that has clouded the German consciousness since 1945. To be a proud German was to be a zealot, not too far removed from the Nazi hyper-nationalism that reduced Europe to debris in WWII.

This week, stepping out of the Munich central station revealed a completely different country. Black, red, and gold were everywhere; every single balcony and awning had its own flag. What made German national pride acceptable again? The answer: the FIFA World Cup, which Germany is hosting. And tonight, their national team will face Argentina for a place in the semi-finals.

For any Harvard student, this phenomenon should sound familiar. On the streets of Cambridge, one is almost as likely to see Yale and Princeton sweaters than Harvard insignia-wear. “School spirit” is strictly taboo. Harvard clothing is purchased exclusively by tourists, Harvard’s praises are sung loudly exclusively by the University Development Office, and Harvard’s football games are attended exclusively by the Harvard Band. The only time that Harvard pride rears its head is the week of the Harvard-Yale football game when Harvardians break their habits and get decked out in pure crimson.

While Germans contend with the ghosts of a totalitarian regime in their recent past, Harvardians suffer from the embarrassment of riches, as students at the world’s most famous university. But the fact of their sheepishness is the same; for fear of being prejudged, each conceals his affiliation to a group with a prominent place in popular imagination.

Are these fears justified? Almost certainly not. As Harvard students learn during Harvard-Yale weekend, and as Germans are presently learning while their football hopes stay alive, expressing one’s pride of place is intensely satisfying, and contributes to building valuable community cohesion.

Curiously, in each case, some kind of catalyst is needed to make individuals embrace their long-lost identities. As superficial as cheering on one’s national soccer team, or drunkenly taunting one’s collegiate rival may be, these experiences release the repressed identities that Germans and Harvardians alike traditionally conceal.

After every Harvard-Yale game, we put away our Harvard hoodies and baseball caps and return to our rivals’ insignia-wear. Buzz, excitement and pride simply dissipate. Cowed by our own fears of being rejected for who we are, Harvard students return to avoiding the question when asked which university they attend. It’s unfortunate, since in so doing we alienate ourselves from a part of our identity that will define us, inwardly if not outwardly, for our entire lives. Such fearful dishonesty—and dishonesty it is, professions of humility notwithstanding—hurts only ourselves. By refusing publicly associate with the Harvard community, we can never be fully attached to it.

Germans should similarly allow themselves to come out of their shells and express their national identity. By all means, let them be ashamed of their country’s despicable past errors. That embarrassment need not, however, be totally unconstructive. By openly and enthusiastically espousing an identity that breaks with the past, Germans can hope to define their own shared future.



It’s unclear whether or not the flags will stay up here in Munich once the World Cup ends. If Harvard’s experience is any indication, the banners will return to their storage places and Germans will once again feel uncomfortable being seen as what they are: Germans. I certainly hope I haven’t seen those distinctive black, red, and gold stripes for the last time.



Adam Goldenberg ’08, a Crimson editorial editor, is a social studies concentrator in Winthrop House. He is touring the world with The Harvard Din & Tonics.