World Cup, Bad Bunny, Knicks and Collective Effervescence

*Video: Ro! Senegal-Norway World Cup, 6/22/26*

The chant conductor struck the drum in two loud beats,Thump, thump! A sea of red-jerseyed Norwegian fans with arms outstretched leaned back, pulled tight, and shouted “Ro!” in thunderous unison. Thump, thump. Ro! Thump, thump. Ro! People throughout the stadium joined in, me too—thousands of us rowing an imaginary Viking longship in the middle of MetLife Stadium in New Jersey! The rhythm got faster, louder, until the entire section surged to its feet and cheered with pure unrestrained joy. I was as transfixed by this ongoing eruption of exuberance in the section next to me as I was by Sadio Mané and Erling Haaland on the pitch in front.

It was an unforgettable evening, and one more thrilling recent example—along with a Bad Bunny concert and the Knicks championship—of people coming together to celebrate something much bigger than themselves.

French sociologist Émile Durkheim coined a term for this: “collective effervescence.” He was studying Aboriginal Australian chanting and dancing rituals in the early 20th century. I came across the idea in social psychologist Jonathan Haidt’s recent Instagram posts about the Knicks. Haidt describes collective effervescence as the joy you feel in a crowd united in a single, transcendent experience. He argues that we are built for such shared sacredness—that “through religion, spirituality, meditation, music, or art, there are moments when we transcend the mundane and feel a hint of something more vast and meaningful.” (Our pilgrimage to Mecca and Medina,which I write about here, is an example of collective effervescence.)

The benefits of such shared experience are significant, as Durkheim and Haidt have noted. Collective effervescence builds trust and empathy, fosters solidarity and social bonding, and creates a sense of shared identity and cohesion. It makes us feel less alone and more connected to something beyond our individual lives. It also lowers stress and makes us happier, at least for a few hours—there is no way you can be thinking about your worries when you are screaming at the top of your lungs.

We felt this at the World Cup match: dancing and singing “Olé, Olé” with Senegalese and Norwegian fans outside the stadium; chatting with strangers in long food lines and learning a bit of their story; jumping out of our seats as Haaland scored yet another goal. Even in the small moments. We stopped a passerby to take our family photo. Arif noticed his Arsenal jersey and pointed to my Man U one. The guy paused and passed his phone to his wife to take the photo—he didn’t want to be the one taking a picture of Manchester United fans! We all laughed, and a moment of mock-rivalry quickly dissolved into a hug.

*Video: Bad Bunny, Madrid, 6/10/26. What moved through 70,000 people, moved through me too!*

A week earlier we were at a Bad Bunny concert in Madrid with 70,000 people, many of whom had flown in from all over the world. I had hardly known of Bad Bunny before the Super Bowl and couldn’t sing any of the songs. It didn’t matter. I was swept up entirely in everyone else’s euphoria—people dancing with absolute abandon, a young boy wearing a pava (straw hat) in tears with disbelief, LED lights shimmering from cardboard camera lanyards around everyone’s necks, synced to the music. It was electrifying.

What struck me was that collective effervescence didn’t require me to have a personal stake in what was going on—it didn’t matter that I didn’t know the music, the crowd became my conduit. What moved through 70,000 people, moved through me too.

And then there was the Knicks winning the championship. Durkheim argued that you have to be in the same physical space to feel collective effervescence. I don’t know if the research bears this out, but I can tell you I felt it an ocean away in Madrid, glued to videos from every conceivable angle of Anunoby’s phenomenal tip-in, New Yorkers going absolutely frenetic after the fifth game win, seeing hordes of people lining parade routes. I have always felt like a New Yorker—it’s where my family had its first home when we came to this country over 50 years ago, where I went to elementary school, then college and graduate school, where I met my husband and started my life as a young couple, and where my kids now call home. Perhaps collective effervescence is not so much about proximity as it is about seeing yourself as part of the collective “we” that is celebrating. At least, that’s what it felt like from Madrid.

At a moment when so many of us are feeling lonely, disconnected, unable to imagine a shared future, this sentiment feels particularly urgent. Collective effervescence doesn’t require that we all agree; nobody cared who we voted for or how we pray. It simply asks that we show up and let ourselves be moved.

I think we need to seek these moments out intentionally. Say yes to the next concert, game, gathering, protest, pilgrimage, even if it seems too crowded, too inconvenient—especially if it seems that way. (I almost didn’t go to the World Cup match, convinced I’d be too exhausted after the flight back from Madrid. I am so grateful I took the chance.)

What awaits in the stadiums, streets, concert venues, is a reminder that we still belong to each other. That we are capable of feeling effervescence, collectively. That we are part of a much greater whole.

Sometimes it takes a drum, a chant, and thousands of strangers rowing in unison to remind ourselves of that.

With all my love,

Salma

PS: As I’m writing this, I get a text from my daughter Saanya who’s on a train from NYC to DC. She is sitting in a four-seater with Croatian dads sitting across from her. They start talking about the World Cup and offer Saanya their extra ticket to the match today! She couldn’t accept as she has events in DC but felt incredibly moved by the gesture. They insist she take a Croatian t-shirt and are mailing her a jersey—she’s an honorary Croatian now, before the train even reached Philly. Amazing.

It’s got me thinking how big does a “collective” really need to be to feel the “effervescence”.