Eurovision is betraying the people who need it most. I won't be going back until something changes.
- Joe Bleasdale
- May 23
- 6 min read
Eurovision has been more than just a song contest to me – it’s the bedrock of my identity, a source of joy, connection, personal growth and about 90% of my solid friend group. But as I watched the results come in last weekend, I suffered an autistic meltdown, the horrifying kind that drags you over the precipice into a deep hole you think you’ll never leave, one I thought I’d long left behind, in part because of this show. A show I barely recognise anymore.
I really hoped I wouldn’t have to write this. I thought we’d turned a corner after last year’s disaster—the 10th May trauma, Joost’s disqualification from the final, the miserable, tense atmosphere in Malmö, the emotional fatigue that hit us all so hard. But instead of learning, we rode into the same fog, steering this increasingly unmoored ship into yet another iceberg. And next year, unless something changes, we’ll likely do it all over again.
Eurovision has been intertwined with my core as long as I can remember. It brought together everything I was obsessed with: chart music, international competition, stats and indescribable things that come with operating instructions for neurodivergence. It also offered a nurturing alternative to sports like football and cycling, which I tried but all fostered exclusionary, ultra-macho environments. My seven-year-old self who’d marvelled at the Moldovan drumming granny went on to discover national finals, the fandom and fan press, which allowed me to come full-circle in Turin, meeting my Moldovan heroes and discovering a huge new one in Sam Ryder, at a press conference I’ll simply never forget.
My decision to walk away from Malmö was nothing more than self-preservation, a fight-or-flight response to the events of that week completely breaking my spirit. I said in my reflections that I wouldn’t give up on Eurovision, and never fully connected with the numerous boycott posts from people who, while I respect them, didn’t seem to understand what Eurovision means for so many LGBTQ+ and neurodivergent fans. It isn’t ‘just telly’, it’s a lifeline, a safe space that we can’t simply ‘let go’.
However, I now understand just how dangerous it is to tether your entire identity to a televised, corporate-run entertainment event, especially one that increasingly contradicts the very ideals it claims to uphold. We’ve been told Eurovision is about continental peace for years, but that feels truly hollow when a nation committing war crimes can not only participate but thrive at the contest, aided by state-backed manipulation.
We’ve seen Israel engaging in highly successful televote rigging two years in a row, where they’ve received virtually the same points from the same countries in the process. Interestingly, this includes countries whose broadcasters have openly voiced discomfort with their participation, like Slovenia, Ireland and Spain. Yes, they didn’t win, but they got three massive moral victories: 1) the glory of the top two split-screen, 2) the highest televote, a maxim fans have used as shorthand for the ‘real’ winner for years, and 3) just the right to turn up and play the victim to millions of people.
It physically disgusted me seeing my worst nightmare, which no bookmaker had even predicted but we really should’ve seen coming, play out. This wasn’t just a close call. They used Eurovision as a PR platform, aided by a government-sponsored ad campaigns that cost more than most countries’ staging budget. Times Square bore ads to vote for Israel. People took to social media to boast about using five separate credit cards to vote for them 100 times. And the EBU just let this happen, despite it being wildly against their regulations.
Israel is not the first country to manipulate the Eurovision televote, despite what you’d think, as the EBU spend far more energy scratching their heads over how to overhaul the jury vote. We’ve seen this kind of legitimising propaganda in the name of ‘neutrality’ before, but it’s never been so clear as day. Eurovision can’t claim apolitical status while allowing government-funded campaigns to dominate the contest.
At least we had the warning shot of the leaked Rai 2 results last year, which I honestly thought would be a wake-up call. We didn’t get that this year until it was too late, and we were faced, tired and drunk, with the threat that Eurovision might become permanently untenable in an instant, and it wasn’t a drill. That’s why I had a meltdown – my entire being was about to be clobbered out of nowhere.
Had Israel won, Eurovision would’ve been dead on arrival. Artists would flee, the fan base would fracture, and the contest's supposed ‘values’ would vanish. The EBU’s hands are tied, we’re told – supporting KAN / IPBC is essential to protecting broadcaster and press freedom in Israel. But surely that can’t justify allowing a nation’s government to pour money into circumventing the rules and hijacking the spirit of the show that makes up their entire identity.
I can’t accept a future where my mental health is in constant crisis because a music contest I’ve loved is being twisted into a tool for soft power and distraction. When I see those social media posts of voters bragging about mass-buying votes, I’m reminded how Eurovision has, in the past, uplifted people like me against the bullies, those who hate it and want it to die. This is no longer the case. Eurovision had my full trust, and it betrayed it in an instant.
For a Eurofan, the joy of Eurovision comes not just from the final or the week itself, but the months of build-up: national selections full of quirks and creativity, pre-parties, online debates, and the delight of discovering new artists. And then we all cling to JJ’s lifeboat, hoping someone has a song popular enough to prevent disaster at the last minute. That’s not sustainable. The end of Eurovision season should bring delight or disappointment, not overwhelming relief that disaster was narrowly averted.
And so, my decision is: either Israel goes or I go. Until there’s serious internal change in the contest, I won’t be attending any events the EBU will profit from, instead spending the money on things I want (holidays, new gadgets etc.). I also won’t be covering the event in any way that celebrates it, and I won’t be seeking press accreditation while criticism of this situation is forbidden.
What I will do is continue to support the amazing people I’ve met through this crazy ecosystem of camp, like the ones I’ve just spent a truly unforgettable week with in Torquay, dodging Basel’s fares for Basil Fawlty instead. I’ll attend fan events, and I’ll amplify good music, queer joy and neurodivergent creativity. But I will no longer identify as a “Eurofan”. I’m a fan of music, of community, of expression – not of a contest that chooses complicity over courage. As Irish entrant Bambie Thug said after last year’s final: “The thing that makes it is the contestants, the community behind it, the love and the power and the support of all of us. The EBU is not what Eurovision is, WE are what Eurovision is.”
This isn’t a farewell forever. It could be a few months, it could be 5-10 years or longer. But I refuse to keep putting on a brave face because I once found joy here. I owe it to myself, and to the community Eurovision once empowered, to say enough. While this isn't for a lofty cause, it's purely for myself and my wellbeing, hopefully it'll give some other people the courage they need to come forward with something similar.
I'll admit, it scares me. I don’t know what comes next, Eurovision is all I've known since I was a kid. But I know it can’t be this. And if that makes me ‘pro’ anything, let me be clear: I’m pro-morals, pro-humanity, and pro-accountability.
I’m also pro-public service broadcasting, and Eurovision is a shining example of appointment-to-view, culture-defining event TV that we’re all poorer for if it vanishes. If Eurovision truly wants to survive the streaming age, the culture wars and the collapse of public trust, it needs open-heart surgery, not another coat of glitter. But it seems the EBU would rather let Eurovision die than improve it. I hope I’m proven wrong.
