A Swedish-American perspective on culture, capitalism, media narratives, and what the 2026 FIFA World Cup reveals about the growing divide between Europe and the United States.

Heja Sverige! It was Texas hospitality at its very best when North Texas welcomed the Swedish national soccer team to its FIFA World Cup home base in Frisco. For me, a Swede who left the small island of Gräsö for a journey through Europe and Latin America that eventually ended in the Lone Star State more than two decades ago, it is exhilarating. Not only because North Texas, and especially the City of Frisco, has more or less adopted Sweden as its own team. Sweden’s greatest World Cup success since reaching the final in 1958 came in 1994, the very first time the United States hosted the tournament. That summer, Sweden captured a bronze medal with a team many Swedes still regard as one of the finest national squads ever assembled.

Disappointingly, Swedish media coverage has so far failed to acknowledge the warmth and genuine enthusiasm Texas has shown. Instead, media outlets across the political spectrum have used the tournament as another opportunity to focus on familiar political criticisms of the United States. The political undertones are not surprising, over the last few years Sweden has become one of Europe’s most Trump-skeptical countries, and coverage of  America is almost automatically filtered through Donald Trump, wether the subject is politics, culture, or as now, the FIFA World Cup. The divide goes beyond disagreements over NATO, climate policy, or global responsibility. President Trump’s showman style clashes with Swedish cultural norms built around modesty, consensus, and ‘lagom’, the idea that nothing should be too much or too extreme.

Another sticking point is the different view of capitalism. Swedes live in a competitive market economy with a large welfare state, but although they support private enterprise, there is a strong belief that it must be accompanied by heavy regulation, a generous social safety net, and high taxes. Capitalism is seen as a useful engine for creating wealth, but one whose rewards government should redistribute. For many Swedes, paying a 25 percent value-added tax and an income tax approaching 57 percent seems entirely reasonable.

All of this runs through Swedish culture. In the United States, soccer is a growing niche sport competing with football, basketball, and baseball for attention. In Sweden, soccer is a core part of everyday life and national identity in very much the same way Texans relate to American football. I remember casually playing soccer with my male and female classmates on Gräsö. We were just 50 kids in the school, so everybody was needed. Soccer is built from the ground up through local democratic sports clubs where members hold majority voting rights and clubs belong entirely to their communities. The so-called 50+1 ownership model exists as a guardrail, making it harder for outside investors to simply buy control the way they often can in other European leagues or American sports franchises.

In the United States, sport is not simply something people do, it is a billion-dollar business. Games and leagues are profit-driven entertainment products. For the 2026 FIFA World Cup, Texas has invested hundreds of millions of dollars in infrastructure, stadium preparations, security, and fan experiences as Dallas-Arlington and Houston are hosting sixteen matches combined. Here, soccer is not only about tradition or community identity, but also about growth, investment, global visibility, and the belief that major international events can create new opportunities. Capitalism is part of Texas culture and identity, viewed as the engine that creates opportunity, prosperity, and individual freedom.

I hope highlighting these differences brings some understanding to why Americans and Europeans in general, and Swedes in particular, so often talk past one another. The FIFA World Cup is a rare moment when two very different ways of seeing football, politics, and capitalism meet on the same pitch. What looks familiar on the surface can often reflect very different ways of thinking underneath.

Caroline Älvebrink Calais 

Political Economist | Writer | Swedish-born, Texas-based | Writing on politics, economics, geopolitics, and culture.

Copyright 2026 Caroline Älvebrink Calais