Yesterday, the European Broadcasting Union (EBU), organisers of Eurovision, decided that, despite opposition, Israel is in for the 2026 song contest in Vienna.
Within minutes Spain, Ireland, the Netherlands and Slovenia said that, as a result, they were boycotting the competition.
As a huge fan, I woke up this morning feeling completely lost. I know that sounds dramatic, but Eurovision isn’t just telly to me.
I subscribe to its founding values – peace through culture and European unity – and I take my annual watch parties absurdly seriously.
I theme food, spend weeks designing red, white and blue themes, making bunting, blowing budgets on balloons, confetti cannons, and custom LED wristbands.
But for the first time, I don’t know what to do.
For almost seventy years, Eurovision has been one of the world’s most successful peace projects, stitching a war‑torn continent back together through music and shared values – built on consistency as much as confetti and its kitsch style.
That is what makes this moment so heartbreaking. One country’s inclusion now risks ripping that fabric apart at precisely the moment we need it most – with Europe arguably facing its gravest threat since the Second World War.
There’s no escaping that participation confers legitimacy. You can’t invite a country onto Europe’s biggest soft‑power stage and then insist the stage has nothing to do with soft power.
When Russia invaded Ukraine in 2022, the line that had been crossed was clear, and everyone could see it. Russia was immediately banned, and rightly so.
Yesterday, the line was blurry, smudged and malleable – not just because Israel remains in, but because Eurovision’s organisers wouldn’t even test its members with a vote.
That isn’t neutrality, nor the consistency it was founded upon.
Spain’s RTVE broadcaster slammed the decision as incompatible with its values; its chair warned that ‘Eurovision is a contest, but human rights are not.’
The Dutch partner Avrotros said Israel’s participation is not ‘compatible with the responsibility we bear as a public broadcaster’ while Ireland’s RTÉ called participation ‘unconscionable’
These are not fringe players sulking on the sidelines – they are mainstream public broadcasters making costly, public choices.
These broadcasters have made it clear that they won’t be neutral, nor will they turn their backs.
At the same time, other heavyweights back the EBU. The BBC – whom I have defended my whole life through thick and thin – supports the decision to keep the contest ‘inclusive’, while former BBC boss Tim Davie claimed in October that Eurovision was ‘never about politics’.
But this is the worst of all worlds.
Eurovision is inherently political. Anyone who argues otherwise is just wrong and naive. The show’s founding purpose, its central principle, its core aim, was to unite Europe after bloodshed – a noble cause, but undeniably a political one.
Meanwhile, Germany, hosts Austria and others are supporting the EBU’s decision. And that split is the story. Eurovision’s supposed consensus is now in tatters – unity in the slogan, fracturing in practice.
So, I’m stuck between head and heart. In my heart, I feel I should boycott it. I hate the idea of what should be a celebration leaving us all so conflicted and divided.
But my head keeps looking for a path back – that broadcasters can find a consistent standard, for a compromise that doesn’t rubber-stamp what United Nations experts consider a genocide, and holds Israel accountable, as they did Russia.
I’m still holding on to the tiniest hope that something shifts before May and saves the contest – and, frankly, me.
Because as it stands, if you can exclude one country over one invasion of a neighbour, then shrug at another, you are not staying out of politics – you are practising inconsistency, and inconsistency is political.
The EBU have chosen their stance, but I don’t pretend this is simple.
There are artists who will spend their savings chasing a national final slot, crews whose livelihoods depend on a fortnight every May, and fans – especially queer fans and diaspora communities – who count on this night to feel seen and safe.
But I also think about civilians under bombardment who will hear Europe say, with a smile, that this is all just harmless fun.
If only that was true.
My Eurovision parties have always been about joy – bringing together people from across the UK, Ireland, Europe and even America – but they have never been about denial.
And the BBC in particular certainly seems to be in denial. I don’t know how it can defend supporting this outcome, despite polls showing 82% of Britons think Israel shouldn’t be allowed to compete next year, with 69% saying we should withdraw if they do.
There is at least some hope in those figures. It suggests Britain is the country I’ve always believed it to be. Open, tolerant and with an immovable, stiff moral core, even if that’s not reflected in our state broadcaster.
Maybe – just maybe – there is still a route through. I have a couple of ideas (just in case anyone at the BBC is reading!).
To their credit, the corporation has, on occasion, added brief explanatory segments around major broadcasts to acknowledge controversies – as it did around the 2022 World Cup coverage in Qatar.
The BBC could provide an on-air explanatory statement providing the context and debate over Israel’s participation – so viewers are, in theory, better informed.
Or when Eurovision shows the traditional short ‘postcard’ film before each act, showcasing that artist’s country, culture and tourism, the EBU could air an additional, neutral postcard featuring a Palestinian voice, during a randomised stage of the show.
Perhaps with changes like these, Europe could get its contest back.
Until then, I’m holding my breath and trying to remember why this crazy, beautiful show mattered in the first place.
Because we can’t afford to lose it.
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