Sci&Tech Editor Sophie Webb reflects on the changing politics of Eurovision and calls for reform in the voting system
Since 2012, I’ve thought about Eurovision a lot. Although I was present while my family was watching the contest for several years before that, 2012 was the first year I could view Eurovision through an analytical lens; the voting segment quickly became more interesting to me than the performances.
Eurovision holds different meanings to different people; originally, it was intended as an innovation of transnational TV broadcasting. Today, for many viewers it provides an excuse for a party, and is not generally taken too seriously. For me, it’s an annual excursion into freehand statistics; I enjoy investigating voting trends, split results and discrepancies. In 1956, Eurovision was established as a ‘light entertainment show’ intended to bring nations together in the years following conflict on the continent. Today, the organisers of Eurovision remain steadfast in their insistence that the contest is an apolitical event; perhaps a hangover from the 1956 plan to commit to unity above all else.
This year, Eurovision was in the news for all the wrong reasons. Its governing body, the European Broadcasting Union (EBU), was heavily criticised for allowing Israel to compete, in the midst of calls for international events such as the 2024 Olympics and FIFA tournaments to divest from and sanction Israel. The EBU declined to exclude Israel from the contest, on the grounds that doing so would contradict Eurovision’s nature as a ‘non-political’ event. However, this reasoning was argued as a double standard, seeing as Russia was removed from the contest within days of the 2022 invasion of Ukraine.
The EBU’s justification for doing so was that Russia’s inclusion would bring the contest ‘into disrepute’. The calls to boycott the contest in 2024 progressed to vast protests in European cities, including the host city of Malmö in Sweden where Greta Thunberg was present among the thousands convening outside the arena. Despite the dystopian dual realities of Eurovision revellers and pro-Palestinian protestors, separated only by the arena walls, the contest went ahead with any concerns about reputational damage seemingly forgotten. The Grand Final viewing figures in the UK fell by a quarter compared to 2023.
In addition to the scenes outside Malmö Arena, chaos also ensued inside it. The last-minute disqualification of Dutch contestant Joost Klein, following a mysterious ‘altercation’ in the wings, marked the first time in Eurovision history that a contestant has been disqualified during the week of the contest. Swedish police became involved, and the Netherlands were removed from the contest in a matter of hours. The EBU’s cryptic stance towards the incident was criticised by the Dutch broadcaster AVROTROS, who were responsible for the Netherlands’ entry. Following the hurried disqualification, several contestants disappeared from rehearsals and the scheduled show run-through started almost 20 minutes late. The full story of what happened remains unknown.
Even the voting became more contentious in 2024. For the second year in a row, it was the jury vote winner (Switzerland) which took home the crystalware and not the public vote winner (Croatia). All of this discontent feeds into annual arguments about whether the voting process is fit for purpose; fans at home have been quick to argue that the jurors, selected by the EBU on the basis of credentials as music professionals, are over-proportionately represented. For anyone unfamiliar with Eurovision voting: five jurors per country decide the ‘jury points’ which each country awards, while millions of viewers phoning in decide the equivalent public points, or ‘televote points’. This significant numerical difference means that whenever the winner is decided by the jury vote, the win is hotly contested by viewers who resent the current 50/50 split system. Fans have rallied for a redesign of the system, perhaps a 60/40 split in favour of the public. It remains to be seen whether the EBU would be receptive to these calls.
I would argue that Eurovision cannot continue in its current form, with media mismanagement and controversy taking centre stage. The EBU has been criticised for its failure to acknowledge dissent against Israel’s participation for fear of engaging with ‘politics’: of course, a political stance in itself. Eurovision was developed in 1956 with the (ironically political) aim of existing apolitically. Its initial goal was to symbolise infallible European unity; however, this image appears somewhat fractured by the EBU’s failure to accommodate the current era of political instability.
Eurovision cannot hope to symbolise peace if its name becomes synonymous with major controversies. Perhaps high on the agenda for change should be to abandon current interpretations of Eurovision as something akin to fantasy, existing on a separate plane to the rest of us. The contest, by its own DNA, cannot be apolitical. It should retain its enduring sense of peacetime merriment while also acting as a mirror held up to the continent, embracing the un-fantastical truth of the European political landscape.
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