Why Norway Can Celebrate Its Conquerors (But We Can’t)

Norway’s World Cup fans celebrate brutal Viking raiders to build national pride, while the ABC demands Australians feel permanent guilt over the First Fleet. Why does one democracy get to celebrate its conquerors, while we are told to loathe our own? Norway is a country of only around 5.6 million people—about one-fifth of Australia’s population—but they’ve certainly been punching above their weight at the FIFA World Cup, recently beating Brazil, the ultimate powerhouse of international football. You might have noticed that while Australia embraced its diversity and multiculturalism at the World Cup—and got knocked out by the Egyptians, by the way—the Norwegians have been leaning heavily into their ancestral heritage. After winning their matches, the players and fans synchronise, mimicking the rowing of a Viking longboat, swaying, and chanting “Ro!” in unison to the beat of a building drum. They certainly aren’t afraid of celebrating their sometimes-bloody history. Now of course, it’s just a bit of fun, and I’m not here to criticise it. They’re using it as a way to build camaraderie, project strength, and celebrate their dominance on the field. It certainly seems to be a good way to unify the crowd and foster national pride. But in this video, I am here to highlight the stark contrast between the Norwegians’ attitude towards history versus our own here in Australia. It goes without saying that for the Vikings—those seafaring Norse people from Scandinavia active between the 8th and 11th centuries—violence was an inherent part of life. They weren’t exactly known for their peaceful negotiations and diplomatic finesse. Although they were master shipbuilders who pioneered advanced maritime navigation, established vast trade routes, and laid the foundations for early European urban centres, they also possessed a fierce warrior spirit, holding the classical Norse values of honour, family, courage, and self-reliance. The Viking Age was ultimately defined by bloody raids, expansionism, coastal plunder, and the establishment of colonies through force across Europe and the North Atlantic. Yet, despite the violence, and despite the pillaging, modern-day Norwegians still celebrate their foundational culture. It clearly brings them together as one—a nation of unapologetic pride, forged by a brutal past but bound together by a shared mythos and ancestry. And then there’s Australia. Although on one hand we are taught to embrace our so-called multiculturalism, on the other, we are taught to loathe our British colonial past. The ABC publishes programs like Stuff the British Stole, portraying Britain as violent, criminal colonisers who brought nothing but misery and theft to the world. But looking at Norway, it’s hard not to notice the glaring double standard. The Vikings built their legacy on brutal raiding, slaughter, and literal subjugation, yet modern Norway proudly claims them as a symbol of unity. Meanwhile, back home, Australians are increasingly conditioned to view our own British maritime history with nothing but disdain and shame. Why does one modern democracy get to celebrate its conquerors, while we’re told to apologise for ours? Interestingly, the ABC is actively celebrating the Norwegian Viking rowers, running headlines like: “How the man behind Norway’s viral Viking row turned team motivation into a global sensation.” There is no mention of the Vikings’ violent past, and no mention of the suffering of their victims—they simply note that “the row is a historical symbol of Norway’s Viking culture.” But when it comes to Australia, every year they post articles such as: “Australia Day is the most morally complicated day on the calendar,” or “Invasion Day rallies are going ahead. Here’s what they mean for First Peoples.” Even our moral superiors over at The Guardian are enthusiastically publishing pieces like: “‘Bigger than football’: Norway fans’ Viking row makes waves at World Cup.” It seems our cultural elites are perfectly happy to ignore the Vikings’ bloody legacy and celebrate their culture, while anyone connected to British history here in Australia is told to shut up and feel ashamed of their own. And that is the core irony here. The Viking legacy is objectively far more brutal in its mechanics—built entirely on lawless plunder, slaughter, and raiding—yet it is effortlessly commercialised and celebrated by the very people who claim to detest colonialism. Meanwhile, British maritime history, which actually laid the legal, infrastructural, and democratic foundations of modern Australia, is increasingly framed purely through a lens of historical guilt. Our leaders constantly claim they want to stop division, yet they actively oversee a cultural apparatus that teaches young Australians to loathe their own country and its history. That is not a recipe for a healthy, cohesive nation. It is a recipe for national decay. MUSIC Allégro by Emmit Fenn