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Eurovision Fever
Why do we watch it?

The setting? Düsseldorf, Germany. The characters? Twenty-five weird and wonderful acts from what is a very loose geographical definition of Europe. The result? Several ridiculous hats from Estonia, some admittedly impressive but ultimately irrelevant sand-painting from Ukraine, and a pair of hyperactive Irish twins with gravity-defying haircuts. Abba must be spinning in their musical grave.
What happened to Eurovision? This institution of European culture and integration, so important that it doesn’t even need a definite article, has gradually metamorphosed from legitimate singing competition into a spectacle more suited to a circus show. To defenders of culture in Europe it is simply a joke; to self-respecting musical artists it is best avoided. Yet an estimated 100 million people across the continent tuned in last Saturday night to watch the action. Why? If the musical talent on show is generally rubbish, is it the masochistic pleasure of watching people make prats of themselves? Or indeed, as many academics have suggested, is Eurovision still an invaluable social barometer offering valuable insights into Europe as both a continent and a collection of nations?
These are two completely disparate reasons for tuning in, of course. It’s fairly unlikely that the average Saturday night TV viewer would look at the Spanish entry crooning on stage and say; “the music is terrible, an insult to the idea that Europe can still provide a cultural reprieve to the tacky commercialism of US show business, but this Galician performance speaks volumes about regional and national identity in Spain, as well as about how this Iberian country sees itself in what is a rapidly evolving Europe”. Obviously anyone that makes such a comment during Eurovision is not somebody with whom to watch Eurovision if one wants to spend an enjoyable evening.
No, Eurovision is first and foremost a spectacle. Despite the fact that musical standards have admittedly dropped since the time of Waterloo (the song and the battle probably both fit here) it is nevertheless still entertaining. Even if the entertainment is often the musical equivalent of a comedian who is laughed at rather than laughed with. People also enjoy, at a base level, being able to slag off other countries and their barbaric mannerisms; we can explain the ridiculousness of the man jumping around on stage in a pair of hot pants by the fact that he comes from some strange and distant eastern European country. Of course this does nothing to eliminate stereotyping and clichés within Europe, but most people are intelligent enough to grasp the fact that not everybody in Lithuania goes around in short shorts all the time. It’s too cold, for one thing.
But, for the more perceptive viewer and for an increasing number of academics throughout the world, Eurovision and its various facets offer a fertile terrain for research regarding European integration and national identities. The recent success of Eastern acts in the competition, for example, might be an indication that these countries approach Eurovision more seriously as they see participation as a measure of acceptance in a continent which was once beyond them. On the flipside, the disdain of many Western European states towards the fiasco that is Eurovision might indicate a feeling that they have ‘moved on’; they used to compete when the competition was worthwhile, but now it is best left to those new kids from the east.
The emergence in recent years of blatant bloc voting does nothing to dispel the ‘east vs. west’ vibe. Figures have shown that countries, especially in eastern Europe, tend to simply vote for their neighbour in Eurovision rather than vote objectively for the best song. Regional solidarity in an imbalanced Europe? Or simply a natural affinity towards the familiar? Either way, this bloc voting has led to repeated mutterings of conspiracy, especially amongst western nations who are sick of losing every year. It even prompted Terry Wogan to hang up his microphone last year; the veteran BBC commentator, who presented Eurovision for more than 30 years to British audiences, left what he used to ironically label a “triumph of appalling taste” because of subjective voting habits which were destroying the nature of the competition.
Eurovision entries could also be viewed as offering an insight into national character and identity, and more academic studies are using the competition to investigate this. Much was made of the fact that 2007’s winning entry from Serbia not only came from a mixed-ethnic background (in a country torn apart by ethnic violence, let’s not forget) but also sang about same-sex love. A statement of Serbia’s resolve to move forward into the ranks of liberal Europe? A similar example was this year’s Irish entry, the insufferably appealing twin pop stars Jedward who despite not winning in Düsseldorf created a storm among the international press. With their camp and Americanised energy and mindless prattling, they could never be said to present an overall image of what constitutes the Republic of Ireland. However, they do represent a particular sub-culture which developed among some sections of the country’s youth during the economic boom around the turn of the century.
It is perhaps better to leave this type of analysis to the social science boffins. For the majority of Eurovision fans the competition remains a highly entertaining spectacle of music and dance, regardless of slipping musical standards. Besides, taking the heavy-metal monsters who won the competition in 2006 as a symbol of the national identity of Finland could lead to some embarrassing conversations the next time you visit Helsinki. Eurovision; a cosmopolitan dish best served with a pinch of salt.


