Why Eurovision matters

Controversy over Israel's participation in the kitschy song contest highlight its geopolitical importance

Representing Sweden this year is KAJ, a comedy trio with a song about saunas called “Bara Bada Bastu.” (Sarah Louise Bennett / EBU)

This week, artists representing 37 countries have gathered in Basel, Switzerland for the Eurovision Song Contest, a glitzy annual competition to find the best, catchiest, and most irresistible song in the world (or at least in Europe).

Eurovision is known as a campy extravaganza and a showcase for European eccentricity. In any given year, fans might see performances by a bunch of joyful Russian babushkas, a sneering Irish turkey, or a Finnish metal group in full monster regalia. Once a launching pad for artists like ABBA and Céline Dion, Eurovision is an event dominated by ebullient pop, pulsating dance beats, and schmaltzy power ballads, not protest songs.

Clouds of controversy

But for the last two years, controversy over Israel’s participation in the event, given the ongoing war in Gaza, has cast a shadow over the glittery proceedings. Although it is not located in Europe, Israel has been a regular participant at Eurovision since 1973 and has won four times, most recently in 2018.

Representing Israel this year is Yuval Raphael, a twenty-four-year-old who survived the Oct. 7 Hamas attacks under harrowing circumstances, performing an anthem of resilience called “New Day Will Rise”. Heading into Saturday’s final, oddsmakers are predicting she will place in the top 10—or perhaps even higher. A small group of protestors disrupted her dress rehearsal on Thursday, blowing whistles and unfurling a large Palestinian flag. Raphael told the BBC she is “expecting” to be booed like Israel’s representative Eden Golan was last year.

The furor over Israel’s participation continues to roil the festivities in Basel. In a letter to the European Broadcasting Union, the organization behind Eurovision, more than 70 former contestants called for Israel to be banned from the competition, as Russia has been since 2022. Several of the national broadcast networks that finance Eurovision, including Ireland’s RTÉ and Spain’s RTVE, have called for a “discussion” about Israel’s involvement.

Yuval Raphael performing “New Day Will Rise” for Israel at Eurovision. (Sarah Louise Bennett / EBU)

Last year’s winner, the Swiss singer Nemo, recently joined the chorus of critics, telling HuffPo UK that “Israel’s actions are fundamentally at odds with the values that Eurovision claims to uphold—peace, unity, and respect for human rights.”

According to the official code of conduct, Eurovision is a “joyous, non-political event” with a policy of neutrality. Contestants are discouraged from “making political statements or causing controversies, thereby shifting focus away from the event’s purpose, which is celebrating music and promoting unity.” In the past, songs deemed too overtly political have been barred from competition. (See: Georgia’s 2009 entry, “We Don’t Wanna Put In,” a clever, if not exactly subtle, rebuke of the Russian despot.)

“Political from the start”

“If you ask the European Broadcasting Union, they'll say, ‘Eurovision has never been political.’ The reality is it was political from the start,” said Chris West, author of Eurovision! A History of Modern Europe Through the World’s Greatest Song Competition.

West explains that the EBU, an alliance of public broadcasters formed to share programming in the early days of TV, launched Eurovision in 1956, when the horrors of World War II remained vivid in the collective memory.

The animating idea behind the contest was “Never again. We're not going to have another war,” he said, noting that while only seven countries took part in the first competition, they included the six countries which formed the European Economic Community a year later (plus Switzerland, where the inaugural event was held.)

In early years, the contest was dominated by the U.K. and countries from central Europe. ABBA’s win in 1974 was historic not just because it marked the Swedish group’s first step to global pop music domination, but also because it clearly signaled that “Europe is bigger than just central Europe,” West said. (Even the song, “Waterloo,” could be seen as a dig at France.)

“Ultimately, Eurovision is about what it means to be a modern European,” West said. “It is about a mindset.”

The Eurovision mindset is not about geographical proximity, but rather about shared culture and values. Over the decades, the contest has expanded beyond the continent’s borders to include Israel, Armenia, and Australia. Even Americans have started to care about Eurovision, thanks in part to Will Ferrell. (In the U.S., the finals will be air live on Peacock Saturday afternoon. Viewers can also watch the music videos on YouTube.)

In contrast, some European countries have bowed out of Eurovision over political differences. Hungary withdrew from Eurovision in 2019, likely because Viktor Orbán’s far-right regime, which controls much of the media, considered the contest “too gay” to broadcast on national television. (One pro-Orbán TV commentator denounced Eurovision as a “homosexual flotilla.”)

Because each participating country awards points to the songs (and, inevitably, the countries) they like the most, Eurovision inevitably becomes a kind of international popularity contest. Winning, or at least placing well, is a source of national pride. Failure to make the finals, as the once-dominant Ireland did this week, is a bitterly disappointing cause for reflection.

In 2003, the United Kingdom received zero points—its worst showing in history—in what was seen as a repudiation of the British government over the invasion of Iraq. (To be fair, the song was also dreadful.)

“They try to keep politics out of the actual songs,” West said. “But that is only a tiny part of what’s actually going on.”

In 2016, Ukraine won the competition with “1944,” a song about Josef Stalin’s persecution of Crimean Tatars that some people interpreted as a statement about Russia’s annexation of Crimea in 2014.

Ukraine won again in 2022, a few months after the Russian invasion, a result that perhaps had less to do with the song’s merits than widespread support for the besieged country.

“Nobody complained about it, because we like Ukraine,” West said, “but it was blatantly political.”

In a crucial distinction, Eurovision is run by an alliance of national broadcast networks, not by the governments of the participating countries. In order to bar Israel from the event, numerous EBU members would have to refuse to take part as long as Israel is involved. That has not happened. (Russia competed for years following the annexation of Crimea.)

And Israel is still part of Eurovision for reasons more complex than supposed political neutrality.

The mission of the EBU is to “protect a certain kind of liberal public service broadcasting which allows independent journalists to criticize the government,” West said.

As podcaster and vlogger Matthew Wrather argues here, Eurovision may actually be helping to keep the news division at KAN, the Israeli national broadcaster, in operation. Kicking Israel out of the competition would likely hasten KAN’s privatization and could further erode press freedom in the country.

Remember Monday, the group representing the United Kingdom, rehearse their song “What the Hell Just Happened? “ at Eurovision. (Sarah Louise Bennett / EBU)

“The Gay World Cup”

No overview of politics at Eurovision would be complete without acknowledging the queer history of the event.

Sometimes called the “Gay World Cup,” Eurovision is a kitschy, over-the-top spectacle that is especially popular in the LGBTQ+ community. It has also event has a long track record of trailblazing representation dating back to its earliest days.

Lesbian singer Dany Dauberson was one of two French representatives at the first Eurovision Song Contest in 1956.

Luxembourg won the contest in 1961 with ““Nous les Amoureux,” (“We the Lovers”) which singer Jean-Claude Pascal later said was about his forbidden relationship with another man. (And was pretty obvious from the lyrics, which you can read the translated lyrics here.)

It would take another 36 years for an openly gay performer, Icelandic singer Paul Oscar, to appear at Eurovision, but LGBTQ+ people have become increasingly dominant in recent decades. Dana International, a transgender woman performing for Israel, won the contest with her song “Diva” in 1998. In 2014, Austrian drag queen Conchita Wurst won with the song “Rise Like a Phoenix.” Nemo became the first non-binary winner last year.

If not exactly a “homosexual flotilla” — as wonderful as that sounds — Eurovision is at least a reliably inclusive party.

Enough about the politics. Who’s going to win?

Despite the controversy surrounding its participation, Israel is also likely to perform well, fueled by phone votes. (Fans can vote up to 20 times by phone.) Austria, France, and the Netherlands are also considered strong contenders.

People are also buzzing—pardon the pun—about “Espresso Macchiato,” a song by Estonian provocateur Tommy Cash which features lyrics written in nonsensical Italian-inflected English. (e.g. “No stresso, no stresso/No need to be depresso.”)

But as of Friday morning, the odds favor Sweden to win with “Bara Bada Bastu,” a goofy but infectious ode to the sauna by the comedy trio KAJ (who happen to be from Finland, but never mind all that). At rehearsals, the group has performed with back-up dancers clad in towels and carrying fresh logs for the sauna. If “Bara Bada Bastu” prevails, Sweden will set a record for the most wins in Eurovision history. (It currently has seven, as does Ireland.)

“Eurovision often tells us a lot about the era,” West said. “God knows we need some cheering up at the moment.”

Meredith Blake is the Culture columnist for The Contrarian