By Harrini Ratnanesan –
Eurovision… Is it X-Factor on steroids? Just a mass gathering of Europeans in whacky costumes? Or is it some kind of weird religious-like festival where your friends worship SBS coverage with a cultish fervour? The last thing many would consider Eurovision to be is a musical battle arena for geopolitics. From politically charged songs (somehow bypassing the strict and seemingly redundant ‘no political songs’ rule) to voting blocs with apparent anti-British sentiments, this contest might as well be called Europe the Musical.
It’s not Europe if the hangover of the USSR and the Cold War doesn’t seep into everything, and Eurovision is no exception. Perhaps one of the biggest expressions of this was with Ukraine’s win in 2016. Jamala won with the song 1944, a melodical reflection on the deportation of the Crimean Tartars by Soviet leader Joseph Stalin. This indiscreetly drew parallels with the continued repression of the Crimean Tartars following the Russian annexation of Crimea in 2014. Naturally, Russians felt anger that Sergey Lazarev’s performance, accompanied by a light and sound show which must’ve cost the Russians more than a few roubles, didn’t win the top prize. Their absence from the competition the following year aggravated tensions as the Russian entrant, Julia Samoylova, was banned from performing in Kiev as she had visited Crimea in 2015.
“We freed ourselves from the Soviet Empire through song… Now we will sing our way into Europe”
Former Estonian Prime Minister Mart Laar
Following Estonia’s win in 2000
However, there was also a mass of post-Soviet states that used the Eurovision platform as a way to boost their national identities. Estonia, who just stopped short of putting a Eurovision win on the national agenda, won in 2001 after which the then-Estonian Prime Minister, Mart Laar, claimed that the country had become free of the Soviet Union “through song.” Instead, Estonia would “sing their way into Europe.” Having a cult-like following, the contest was seen as an avenue through which the nation was able to forge its newly found image and independence. Ukraine also entered the competition for a similar reason, concurrently establishing a position within the post-Soviet bloc and reconstructing relationships with the rest of Europe.
From Lebanon’s withdrawal in 2005 after its refusal to broadcast Israeli performances to Georgia’s withdrawal in 2009 due to their anti-Putin song being rejected by the European Broadcasting Union, the competition does not rely solely on the ghost of the USSR for its political angst and drama. Austria refused to compete in Madrid in 1969 in protest of Francisco Franco’s regime amidst allegations the Spanish dictator bought votes and cheated Cliff Richards (the UK entrant) out of a win the previous year. Fast-forward to 1975, Greece was absent in protest of Turkey’s debut in the contest (following the Turkish invasion of Cyprus in 1974). This drama continued in 1976 with Turkey withdrawing after claiming Greece’s entry made references to the invasion. The country opted to broadcast Greece’s performance but dubbed over it with a nationalist Turkish song – the ultimate musical revenge.
The political spectacle doesn’t stop there. Voting blocs in Eurovision basically became the ultimate show of alliances between countries, a musical Game of Thrones. Despite constant denial that voting blocs are fake news, viewers know of the very real presence of them. Whilst data analysis varies, three or four main blocs are always prevalent. The first of these is the Balkan bloc, including former Yugoslav countries, Romania and Albania. Then there is the bloc of Russia and Pals, the former USSR. The Scandinavian bloc, inclusive of the Nordic wannabes Iceland, Latvia, Finland and Lithuania, make up the third bloc. Lastly is the weird ‘Western’ mashup of Ireland, France, the Netherlands, Belgium, Malta, Germany, Switzerland and Austria. Whilst the composition of these blocs are frequently argued about and are forever changing, the core of the blocs often remains the same. This also includes the enduring smaller partnerships such as Greece/Cyprus, Spain/Portugal and Italy/Malta.
“I absolutely hate it… to see the level of prejudice that is now levelled against us at the Eurovision song contest, and then to believe that Mr Cameron is going to go to Brussels and renegotiate a good deal for us, it’s really quite funny all round.”
Nigel Farage
May 2015
Nigel Farage, the universally adored former UKIP leader, has cited bloc voting and Eurovision as being ‘biased’ against the UK. This prompts the question: Why is the UK so bad at Eurovision? Is it because of politics or just bad songs? Many experts have suggested that continually poor performances by the UK are an indication of the relationship between the UK and Europe, some kind of yardstick to measure exactly how much the rest of Europe like or hate the UK. Despite the repeated claims that the voting blocs are to blame for the downfall of the UK, perhaps really it’s simply just down to actual poor performances. Conspiracy was yet again rife in 2003 when it was claimed that British pop-group Jemini’s failure was actually part of the Iraq invasion backlash. Whilst credible at points, the performance was undeniably off-key and unusual – leading listeners to a very clear conclusion as to whether the UK failed that year because of Iraq or because it actually sucked.
“This night is dedicated to everyone who believes in a future of peace and freedom. You know who you are – we are unity and we are unstoppable”
Conchita Wurst
Following Austria’s win in 2014
However, politics in this context should not be taken to mean something negative It does not taint the competition so much as it enhances. Over the years, Eurovision has been a host to not only incredible talent but to instigating discussions on culture, tolerance, acceptance, human rights, and self-determination. Israel’s 1998 transgender entrant Dana International and Austria’s winning entrant in 2014, Conchita Wurst (a drag queen) serve simultaneously as examples of when the Eurovision stage was used to represent diversity and to provoke international discussions. Another notable performance, the German winning entry in 1982 titled A Little Peace, signaled hope for peace in Cold War Europe. Ultimately the competition has become, and continues to be, a history of Europe written in music – a melodious testament for the ages.
So reader, as you either buckle in for the finals this weekend or go on your merry way more confused by what Eurovision actually is still, it is abundantly clear why Eurovision is often marked by bizarre performances and lyrics. When you have the weight of the geopolitics as driving factor behind the entire competition, you too would resort to excessive amounts of glitter, aluminium and strobe lights in your presentation. Embrace it, for where else would you get a spectacular, and at times highly humorous, fusion of global politics and music manifesting as it does in Eurovision.
