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Hi from Zagreb!
Until late last night, I was ruminating whether I should be writing this from Vienna. This week, Austria is hosting the 70th edition of the Eurovision Song Contest, a global exercise in music extravaganza and political conformity.
I was even delaying writing this newsletter, as I wasn’t sure what to do after the competition’s continuous struggle to handle a country that, while continuing to destroy the lives of its first neighbors and pulling the entire world into an energy crisis, simultaneously stages performances with sparkling chandeliers and glowing diamonds.
Surprisingly, after I wrote a series of critical articles on this public display of a collective bipolar disorder, including those on Israel‘s artwashing budgets, reality detachment, and Eurovision boycotts, I was still granted a press pass to cover the event again this year.
With one Viennese hotel, I organized my stay, and I was a click away from confirming my bus ticket. But in the end… I didn’t pull through.
As I watched the production team’s press conference yesterday via the Online Media Center, I saw Eurovision boss Martin Green getting increasingly nervous with uncomfortable questions. The questions reaching him now are almost regularly uncomfortable, not because the media is anti-semitic, but because the media is still doing its job. And the director is evading these interrogative bullets with a tone that sounds increasingly more arrogant and passive-aggressive than concerned.
Asked about the broadcasters who pulled out after the EBU‘s lack of serious actions against politically-motivated vote engineering (even after the ad campaign that initiated cosmetic changes in Eurovision rules, Israel launched the same “vote 10 times” promo this year, and then got only a formal warning), Green just said: “We will do aaaaanything in our power to find the pathway back. Ultimately, it’s up to them.”
Coming from someone who avoided accountability already, saying they’ll do ‘aaaaanything’ doesn’t sound convincing, no matter how many a’s one extends the word with.
Later that evening, I also watched the Dress Rehearsal of the first Semi-Final. Sadly, I have to say this was not the Eurovision I remember (and I did watch it for over three decades). Songs and advanced technical set-up aside, the show felt tacky. The atmosphere was flat. The audience seemed like unentertained statists. There was a visible lack of flags and cheers. Even boos. The excitement and the creative production excellence were certainly not on the level of Basel. Who knows, maybe live shows will surprise us differently.
For me, this appearance of the 70-year-old Eurovision didn’t feel celebratory but tired. After the cancelled Eurovision Live Tour, the demand to demonstrate success must be becoming more and more difficult to respond to. Eurovision might go to Asia next, but Israel’s hot potato will be following it, despite the direction’s efforts in sweeping the topic under the turquoise carpet.
I love Europe. I love its political choice to erase borders. But erasing borders shouldn’t mean we’re incapable of drawing a line when needed.
If your stomach cannot process the fact that the European music institution has been hijacked by one country’s need to project normality for mostly its internal political needs, but you still love Europe as a borderless idea, I have another read for you.
Check out Europos Parkas, a place at Europe’s geographical heart, where a teenager stood ground even when a “bullying” political system ordered differently. There, even kids can do it.
Have a European week,
Ivan Kralj
Pipeaway.com
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