Deutschland, Deutschland
Since the end of World War II, the German flag has been a symbol of ambivalence for most Germans, bringing with it ugly whiffs of nationalism gone terribly wrong during the insanity of the Nazis. It was flown at official buildings, but the thought of hoisting it frivolously on the front porch or during a garden barbecue would have been met by the average German with revulsion and suspicion. The flag and its accompanying patriotism were too closely associated with the deep national disgrace of the Third Reich, and for more than half a century they had not come to terms with it.
But now, unbelievably, this is what we see when we go outside: German flags fluttering from the window of every other car and people walking around adorned in German-flag-themed afro wigs, scarves, and sweat bands. And surprisingly for this land of philosophers and musicians and intellectuals, the catalyst for the sweeping change was soccer.
Two years ago during the World Soccer Cup, Germany spawned a Cinderella soccer team that came from nowhere and knocked out the traditional giants to nearly win the world championship. People who were in Germany during those days say that the country was unified and hopeful and patriotic as they had never seen it before, with people dancing and singing in the streets and smiling and embracing strangers. Not exactly typical German behavior, but liberating nonetheless after decades of collective guilt. What emerged was a newborn patriotism, and a rehabilitation of sorts for the German flag.
The reason for the proliferation of flags again now is the European Soccer Cup, a bit like America's Super Bowl or World Series to the 10th power. All of Germany—all of Europe—is glued to their televisions when the games are broadcast, and afterward here in Berlin they take to the streets with raucous singing and convoys of honking cars.
As of now, Germany's hopes for a second chance at a title are still alive. And German flags are flying everywhere, proudly.
