"Gay holiday outside politics". Why Eurovision no longer unites

Eurovision, one of the most massive and at the same time the most queer-friendly cultural projects in Europe, is experiencing perhaps the most serious crisis in decades. The contest, which for years insisted on the status of "out of politics", by the end of 2025 was embroiled in a sharp dispute over Israel's participation – and looks less and less like a space of neutral escapism.

A symbol of discontent was the gesture of the Swiss winner 2024 Nemo: the non-binary artist publicly refused his trophy, returning it to the organizers. This is a rare and indicative step for a competition, where even hints of protest are usually carefully cleaned up by the regulations.

Since its inception in 1956, Eurovision has served several functions: a showcase for pop music, a platform for soft cultural diplomacy, and a safe space for LGBTQ+ audiences. For queer viewers, the contest has been a form of collective escape from reality for decades — a bright, camp-like and emphatically apolitical show. But it is precisely this apolitical nature that is increasingly being questioned today.

The key point of tension is Israel's participation in the 2026 contest. Against the backdrop of the ongoing conflict in Gaza and a large-scale humanitarian crisis, five countries at once - Iceland, Ireland, the Netherlands, Slovenia and Spain - announced a boycott. The decision came after the European Broadcasting Union (EBU) refused to hold a separate vote on the admissibility of Israel's participation.

Formally, the EBU continues to insist on the separation of art and politics. However, previous years show that this line has long been blurred. In 2024 and 2025, Israeli applications are songs Hurricane and New Day Will Rise – were interpreted as emotional reactions to the events of October 2023. Although the texts avoided direct political statements, the context was readable—and it was the source of polarization.

Nemo's protest added an additional symbolic load to the situation. In his statement, the artist noted that the competition declares the values of unity, inclusion and dignity, but the EBU's decisions are increasingly contradicting them. The return of the trophy was a gesture of personal disappointment - and coincided with the national qualifiers, which enhanced the effect.

The next competition, scheduled for May 2026 in Vienna, was originally conceived as a celebration of renewal. Austria won in 2025 with a song Wasted Love performed by JJ (Johannes Peach), the first openly gay winner in the history of the Eurovision Song Contest. His message that "love wins" sounded like a perfect extension of the contest brand.

But the possible absence of Spain (the "Big Five" country), Ireland with its record number of victories and the Netherlands - one of the founders of Eurovision - calls into question the integrity of the event itself.

The history of the competition shows that "neutrality" has always been more of a convenient myth. In 2020, Belarus was excluded after political repression in the country after the presidential elections in August this year. And in 2022, Russia was expelled after the start of the war in Ukraine - and this became a precedent for direct political intervention. Now similar questions are being raised in relation to other conflicts, and the EBU has to explain exactly where the boundary of the permissible lies.

The consequences of the crisis can be long-term. Eurovision risks losing part of its LGBTQ+ audience - the same one for whom the contest was a space of safety and identity. There may be changes in the rules of participation, the emergence of new conflict resolution mechanisms, or even a gradual fragmentation of the project — with the growth of alternative formats and regional shows.

Politics, as it turns out, is inevitable even where they sing about love and sparkles. The future of Eurovision depends on whether the contest can maintain its cultural role – or finally turn into a field of symbolic wars.