Eurovision gets (even more) political
The camp contest has long been as much about politics as pop, but this could be the most divisive year yet, says Charlotte Runcie
In January, soon after the British television-viewing public selected an emotional power ballad as this year’s Eurovision entry, some keeneared listeners convinced themselves it contained a thinly veiled anti-Brexit, pro-EU message. Performed by Lucie Jones, a young Welsh singer and former finalist on The X Factor, the song Never
Give Up On You has been taken as a “Remoaner’s lament”.
Co-written by a Danish former Eurovision winner, its lyrics include “You’re not defeated, you’re in repair/ Don’t have to call me, I’ll always be there/ We’ll stand tall, so you don’t fall”. The plaintive chorus has been discussed on online comment boards as a coded plea to the televoters of Europe not to take against the UK just because it voted for Brexit: “I will never give up on you / I don’t care what I’ve got to lose/ Just give me your hand and hold on…”
“It’s all about unity and including everyone,” Jones recently explained, not exactly putting paid to speculation. “What a great year to be an ambassador for our country!”
It was perhaps inevitable that this year’s Eurovision would get political. Because it always does, despite rules that “no lyrics, speeches, gestures of a political or similar nature shall be permitted”.
Since it launched in 1956 – a full year before the Treaty of Rome, which created the forerunner of today’s European Union – the world’s longest-running annual international television song competition has long been as much about politics as pop.
In its 62 years, it has included several overtly political numbers. In 1980, Norway entered a protest song about a hydroelectric plant. Italy’s 1990 winner, Insieme ( Together), was a love letter to a united Europe. When Austria’s bearded drag queen, Conchita Wurst, won in 2014 with the Bond-like Rise Like ke a Phoenix, it was taken as a rallyingng cry for the transgender community; ity; in her acceptance speech, she he said: “You know who you are – we are unity, and we are unstoppable.”ble.”
In 2013, the Finnishh performance includedd a lesbian kiss, reputedly in protest test against the lack of gay marriage ge legislation at the time. .
Perhaps most political cal of all was Portugal’s 1974 4 entry, a dreary folk song usedd as a signal for young military officers to start the overthrow of the country’s 48-year dictatorship.
Last year, the Eurovision Song Contest came up as a talking point during the EU referendum campaign. The thenprime minister David Cameron was asked at PMQs whether a Brexit vote would mean that the UK could no longer compete in Eurovision. Attempting to reassure fans of sparkly Europop, Cameron laughed off the suggestion. He correctly pointed out that “given that Israel and Azerbaijan and anyone anywhere near Europe seems to be able to… Australia!… I think we’re pretty safe.” But while our place at the world’s finest festival of camp is secure – the UK is one of the “Big Five” countries that make the largest financial contributions to the European Broadcasting Union – our future success might be more coloured by Brexit than we’d like to think. This year’s grand final, hosted by Ukraine’s capital, Kiev, is on Saturday, after two knock-out heats on Tuesday and Thursday that will whittle down 42 songs to a mere 26. But before a note has been sung, the stage is set for it to be the most political Eurovision in the contest’s history. And that’s including the years of the Cold War. For evidence of Eurovision’s growing politicisation, ask a Russian. Successive entries have been booed by the live audiences, supposedly in protest at President Vladimir Putin, but more specifically his country’s human-rights record (particularly on gay rights), its annexing of Crimea and its support for the Syrian regime.
In 2014, the audience’s booing of the Tolmachevy Sisters was so pronounced that the following year, organisers had to install “anti-booing technology” to drown out the protests.
But things were even more antiRussian last year. The surprise winner, Ukraine’s Jamala, gave a moving performance of a ballad about the 1944 deportation of Crimean Tatars under Stalin. Russia – sore at coming third, having led the voting until the very last moment – had complained it was overtly political and shouldn’t have been allowed in the first place.
This year, Russia isn’t taking part at all. Ukraine has barred Russia’s chosen act, Yuliya Samoylova – a wheelchair user with spinal muscular atrophy – from even entering the country. (In 2015, Samoylova had visited the disputed territory of Crimea, violating Ukrainian law.)
It’s all an uncomfortable reminder of previous anti-Russian protests at Eurovision, including, in 2009, when Georgia attempted to enter a song entitled We Don’t Wanna Put In. Georgia claimed it had absolutely no political double meaning whatsoever, despite the fact that “put in” sounds… well, exactly like “Putin”. Organisers demanded the lyrics be changed, but Georgia decided to withdraw instead.
Russia’s recent history at the contest shows what happens to a participating country making headlines in Europe for the “wrong” reasons.
‘Russian entries have been booed in protest at Putin – this year, Ukraine barred their act from taking part at all’
So what could it all mean for Britain? Would the remaining 27 EU member states be cruel enough to take it out on us at Eurovision?
Well, they’ve got previous. Our 2003 entry, Jemini, scored the dreaded nul points, thanks to dodgy vocals – but also, it was rumoured, to continent-wide distaste at Tony Blair’s Middle East excursions. Sir Terry Wogan, who fronted Eurovision for the BBC for 37 years, agreed that the UK had suffered from “post-Iraq backlash”.
Yet with the rising popularity of anti-EU movements in countries such as Italy and Denmark, as well as the surprising twists of the French presidential election, it might not be all doom. We might be able to shore up votes from some citizens of those nations wanting to ally themselves with Britain’s go-it-alone position.
Current betting puts the UK entry at 50/1, which would place us a lowly 20th – higher than we’ve come in recent years. Last year and the year before, we finished a dismal 24th. It’s 20 years since Britain last won the Eurovision, with Katrina and the Waves singing Love, Shine a Light.
At least Lucie Jones doesn’t have a lot to live up to next Saturday. If we tank again, it won’t exactly be a break from form, so we can’t reasonably blame Brexit.
But if we do somehow beat the runaway favourite, Italy, we can be justly proud – and pour ourselves a glass of prosecco.