It’s been a month since Eurovision in Malmö. Typically, at this time of the year, fans would be speculating the next hosting city. We’d be snooping around countries’ relevant record labels and national broadcasters at this time to create premonitions on who they want to send to the contest to win. It’s the time of the season when we’d be discussing the results sequence and winner reveal with decadent, mathematical rhetoric. Early June usually serves as a balancing point for the artists – the fresh acts start announcing singles, albums, tours, you name it. Summer pop season would be on lock, thanks to the efforts of the last Eurovision graduates. At least, that’s the mood.
The tidal wave of excitement I’m used to, post-Eurovision, has been shocked out of the room. It’s so far taking everything in me to not go into a defeatist spiral about the wound left on us, this year. In my heartbroken state, I try to honor the memory of the philosophy of art without borders, which used to be the central mission of the show. In the most embarrassing way imaginable, the European Broadcasting Union has introduced a rift between us and them.
The collapse of the spirit of Eurovision did not happen quietly, nor quickly. The EBU’s decision to retain Israel in the contest despite its broadcaster’s glorification of the genocide of Palestinians in Gaza, coupled with the EBU’s staunch agitation toward any iota of visual Palestinian-friendly symbolism have created a highly unsettling environment in Malmö. A verbal tiff between Joost of the Netherlands and a camerawoman also smacked the eurofandom with the confusingly sudden verdict to forbid Joost from competing in Saturday’s final – a decision made on Friday, May 10th, the day when the status of the show was in absolute freefall. This was the day that as a community, we could no longer be charmed by the idea that there’s a strict standard across the conduct of everyone contributing to the program. Harassment by the Israeli delegation members and press was rife, and they were allowed to be confrontational and insulting.
Protests were organized on the streets outside of the arena because of Israel’s participation alone. A fat chunk of the show’s budget was allocated to security, and the delivery of everything from fan spaces to the running production decisions seemed cardboard. From the press room to the catwalks backstage, everyone participating in the Eurovision journey was tense, cautious, and greatly upset. The amount of booing heard in and out of the mic feeds of the hosts sobered any delusion that the Eurovision Song Contest is faultlessly unifying. Contestants were livid, to say the least.
Switzerland won. Nemo is the second nonbinary participant to compete at Eurovision, and the first nonbinary winner. During their victorious press conference, they mentioned after accidentally breaking the trophy on the ground, that the glass microphone figurine can be fixed, and that Eurovision may need fixing too. During my interview with them at the Madrid PreParty in March, I asked them if they had any advice for folks who want to break a malicious cycle, but feel as if they’re unable to. Nemo said that it’s good to reach out for help from those you trust. In their eyes, I caught a frame of hope.
It’s my decision to hold out for the contest, in the wish that it changes for the better again. Refresh, redo, restart, evolve. It’s time the EBU listened to the people, if it wants the true Eurovision Song Contest back again.
On that note, a part of me will always be lying in wait for Eurovision’s redemption. Despite everything this season had to demonstrate in terms of the moral cracks in the show’s framework, the idea of unity still pervades the ether of our community. As its family, we guard its tradition. The next few months ahead will see if the Eurovision Song Contest can truly match the love we put forward.