ICELAND | Narrowly missing the victory in the superfinal of Söngvakeppnin 2024 to 2010 veteran Hera Björk and her entry “Scared of Heights”, Bashar Murad still made an impact during this national final season.
His entry, “Wild West”, was authored in part by Matthías Tryggvi Haraldsson, the former lead vocalist of Iceland’s 2019 representatives, Hatari. Also from Hatari and contributing to this number were Einar Stefánsson, and Sigurður Andrean Sigurgeirsson, taking part in the choreography. According to Murad, “Wild West” is about the desire to become free – being able to go anywhere, unrestrained. His visuals used the imagery of watermelons and flashes of the traditional dance called Dabke to solidify the core of this song to speak for his own experience as an artist who desires freedom of movement, which is one personal story from under the umbrella of the Palestinian people’s struggle under occupation. The composition itself is a psychedelic and smoky Western-meets-pop number with daring lyrics, a solid bass line, and an energized beat. As a song on its own, it is quite good. However, despite what a quality contender this song would be in any other year, there is controversy within the fandom about this song’s participation in the national final in light of the ongoing genocide in Gaza, Palestine. To understand why, we must reflect on Eurovision’s history with Israeli-Palestinian conflict.
(It’s at this point in the piece where I need to point to my task as a writer for Eurovision Fam. I am not a historian and I will not be highlighting the chronology of Israel’s colonialism in Palestine on this platform. I’m here to tell you about how the train of events I’m about to describe marked a turning point for how Eurovision behaves as an international program, and what a performer with an important story now has the potential to do. There are many resources at readers’ disposal on the internet that could provide the needed information about the occupation and genocide, and I trust that my readers are discerning.)
Eurovision is a rare time and space for all people to come together despite the differences we have with one another. The European Broadcasting Union specifies the Eurovision Song Contest as an international entertainment event free of politics. In 2019, the Icelandic representatives, a band named Hatari, brought a new meaning to the term “all people” during the announcement of their televote points during the Grand Final of Eurovision.
In a city called Tel Aviv by host Israel, the energy inside Expo Tel Aviv was grand, glittery, and vivacious. The competition was fantastic, and the results sequence leading to the winner reveal was getting juicy. Iceland received 186 points from the viewers, which combined with 46 jury points for a total score of 232 points, giving them a top ten (10th place) finish. That wasn’t all that happened in that moment though.
While on camera awaiting the televote point announcement, Hatari’s band members unraveled small banners displaying pan-Arab colors, the Palestinian flag, and the name “PALESTINE” that had been hidden in their leather-and-metal costumes. A simple but severe move against the broadcaster’s hand of power. It was a clear rebuke of the bureaucracy, complicity, and censoring that allowed for the contest to go on despite a humanitarian crisis scarring the land.
A screech shot across the arena and agitated some TV viewers, the live audience, the show’s executive supervisor, and most especially the hosting Israeli broadcaster. A perfectly apolitical Eurovision had been blemished seconds before curtain, and the vibe of the night dimmed in a serious and uncomfortable way. On this Saturday, the Eurovision Song Contest changed forever. The city that this took place in was once called Yaffa in unoccupied Palestine.
Later on in the week, Hatari released an empowering rock song sung in Icelandic and Palestinian Arabic, called “Klefi”, which translates to “steadfast” or “immovable” in Arabic. This song featured a new friend of theirs in whom they found an excellent collaborator for their artistry, and a staunch character to demonstrate why Hatari felt so strongly their silent act of protest was necessary. The name of the Palestinian singer is Bashar Murad.
Since the announcement of Bashar Murad taking part in the preselection in Iceland, there have been a number of people on the internet trying to draw attention to his nationality, questioning if his participation has truly apolitical intentions, being a pop artist from East Jerusalem. His entry was written to tell of his personal experience and desires as an artist, and the song was sent to the broadcaster prior to the deadline of September 10th, which was roughly a month before October 7th and the start of the newest wave of the genocide. In a now deleted TikTok video from a fan, this about singer was interrogated. A current version of this TikTok was embedded in this tweet on Twitter/X.
Why does the notion of nationality in this entertainment program matter at all? In reality, it doesn’t. Bashar Murad being from Palestine isn’t indicative of a mutant phenomenon and shouldn’t serve as the scapegoat for confessing that Eurovision and its preselection season have innately wide-reaching political undertones.
Second, Eurovision frequently features artists who represent countries they are not from, have never lived in, and even have never previously visited. Take for example a Canadian woman named Céline Dion taking the trophy on behalf of Switzerland in 1988. Another winning example is Dave Benton from Aruba, who won for Estonia in Eurovision 2001 with Tanel Padar and 2XL. Katrina from Katrina and the Waves is American and had won for the United Kingdom in 1997. Tiny San Marino famously recruits foreign acts in their national selection to a point that they represent an overwhelming majority of entrants. Tramar Lacel Dillard, a US citizen and artist known as Flo Rida, even helped Senhit represent San Marino in 2021. This year, the Spanish band Megara is representing San Marino. Cyprus for the second year in a row as of 2024 is sending an Australian act with Silia Kapsis.
A precursor to the discourse of Bashar’s origin was the ability of the Israeli broadcaster KAN to remain in the contest despite breaking rules set in place by the EBU that had previously seen Russia and Belarus barred from the show permanently. Israel had a purpose to stay in Eurovision 2024 despite two prospective contenders for their song being rejected by the EBU for political lyrical content. KAN’s described narrative for the song they send is to clarify the conflict using the Israeli perspective. The intention alone here is disqualifiable according to the rules of the contest.
The labeling of Murad’s participation in the Icelandic preselection as a political tactic based on his ethnicity is an echo of the rhetoric committed to eliminating the visibility and humanity of Palestinian people while glorifying their destruction, which has been prioritized by KAN since October 7th. Islamophobic and antisemitic hate crimes are on the rise across the world because of the misinformation circulating about the ongoing genocide. As there are fans of Eurovision who stop at calling a politicized contest a bad contest based on the nationality or ethnicity of a participant, there can also always be found more acute and threatening forms of discrimination.
The EBU points to a dangerously misleading dichotomy that incited this discord: two camps representing two sides of an equal-stakes war. This hypothesized polarity preventing an ideal union isn’t leveraged well, as seen in the comments section of any of the posts left by Eurovision or the EBU on their social platforms since October 7th. #BoycottIsrael, #BanIsraelFromESC, and other phrases coming at the EBU from every avenue lacquer their social media channels, far and ahead way more often than calls to keep Israel in. These comments spread the need for accountability and humanity in a way I had never seen the Eurofan body require before.
The number of people criticizing the EBU’s inaction is palpable and increasing, and I have a feeling that the organizers of Eurovision 2024 are getting anxious about the length of their tightrope. Every day worsens the case of Gaza’s siege, and Europe seeing a human being from Palestine could have re-sensitized audiences in an unexpected way. I say this also to glance at Jamala in 2016, performing the winning song “1944” for Ukraine, which was an entry that also faced backlash from being accused as political. It’s a helpful area of research, for those unfamiliar, as to how a performing act inviting their personal/family history into a song is accused of carrying a political message. Nevertheless, more than any time in the past, I’m witnessing an uncontested coalition of new and longtime fans who refuse to be dazzled – refuse to be pandered to or coddled – and need to see Eurovision honor its central philosophy of being a beacon of peace and music without borders. In addition, there are people who are here for a good song. You can be both.
What the artist did is not anything different than what other music creators do. He came to a Eurovision preselection to show the world his art and give a stunning performance. There will be a time in the future where he’ll be able to share a story of his own, and even get more folks to see themselves in him.
The next stop for Hera Björk is Malmö. Iceland, just like every other country in this competition, is getting their performance together to win. She puts on a great show, and we’ll see if Europe feels “Scared of Heights”.