When a stage built for unity becomes a battleground, it risks losing not just fairness – but its very soul

I have always loved the idea of the Eurovision Song Contest.

Not just the glitter, the theatrics, or the occasional wonderfully bizarre performances – but the idea. A continent, once torn apart by war, choosing to sing together. A stage where language barriers dissolve into melody. A place where identity is expressed not through conflict, but through creativity.

“United by Music,” the slogan declares. And for many years, it felt true.

But lately, I find myself asking a question that lingers long after the final notes fade: united by music – or divided by politics?

Because what we are witnessing today is not merely debate. It is something far more troubling: a creeping transformation of a cultural celebration into a political battleground – one in which Israel has become a convenient target.

Let me be clear. Disagreement is not the problem. Eurovision has never existed in a vacuum. It reflects the mood of Europe, its tensions, its triumphs, its evolving values. But there is a difference between reflection and weaponization.

And what we are seeing now is the latter.

Calls led by countries such as Spain and Iceland to exclude Israel from the 2026 contest are not isolated expressions of concern – they are part of a broader campaign to turn participation into a political litmus test. Withdrawals, boycotts, petitions, pressure campaigns – each one pushing Eurovision further away from its founding spirit.

It is difficult to ignore the irony.

A competition created in the aftermath of World War II to promote unity is now being used to enforce division.

What makes this moment particularly revealing, however, is not just the calls for exclusion – but the powerful pushback against them.

More than 1,000 figures from the global entertainment industry – artists, producers, executives –have come together to say, in essence: enough.

Voices like Scooter Braun, Gene Simmons, and Mayim Bialik have reminded us of something both simple and profound: music is meant to unite, not divide.

Their message cuts through the noise. Artists should not be judged – or excluded – because of where they come from.

Cultural spaces should not become arenas of selective morality.

And perhaps most importantly, boycotts that target individuals rather than policies rarely lead to peace – they simply deepen divides.

I find myself deeply encouraged by this collective stand. It is a moment of clarity in an otherwise clouded conversation. A reminder that common sense still has a voice – and, when necessary, the courage to speak.

But beyond the politics, beyond the petitions, there is another story – one that deserves to be told more often. Israel’s story in Eurovision. Since joining the contest in 1973, Israel has not merely participated – it has contributed, shaped, and, at times, elevated the competition itself.

Four victories – 1978, 1979, 1998, and 2018 – each one reflecting a different moment, a different sound, a different facet of Israeli identity.

From the joyful harmonies of “Hallelujah” to the bold individuality of “Toy,” Israel has consistently brought something distinctive to the stage: diversity, creativity, and a willingness to push boundaries.

Perhaps nowhere is this more evident than in the victory of Dana International – the first openly transgender winner of Eurovision. Long before many conversations about inclusion became mainstream, Israel was already embodying them on one of the world’s biggest stages.

That matters. It speaks to a deeper truth: Israel’s presence in Eurovision is not an anomaly – it is part of the contest’s fabric.

And then there is the present. Despite extraordinary pressure, despite protests and threats, Israeli contestants continue to show up – not with anger, but with artistry.

Last year, Yuval Raphael finished second overall and won the public vote. Not because of politics – but because people connected with the music, the performance, the story.

This year, Noam Bettan steps onto the stage with “Michelle,” a multilingual song weaving Hebrew, French, and English into a single emotional narrative.

There is something quietly powerful about that.

At a time when voices are calling for exclusion, Israel responds with inclusion – through language, through culture, through music. That, to me, is the essence of resilience and renewal.

Of course, critics will argue that Eurovision cannot be apolitical. That global events inevitably shape cultural spaces. That artists have the right – perhaps even the responsibility – to take a stand.

And they are not entirely wrong. But here is where I gently push back. If Eurovision becomes a space where participation is contingent on political approval, then where does it end?

Who decides which conflicts qualify? Which nations are deemed acceptable? Which artists are allowed to sing – and which are silenced? Once that door is opened, it does not close easily.

It expands. And before long, the stage that once united becomes a mirror of every division it was meant to transcend.

There is another layer to this conversation that we must confront – one that is uncomfortable, but necessary. The selective nature of outrage.

In a world filled with conflicts, human rights concerns, and geopolitical tensions, why is Israel so often singled out in cultural arenas? Why is the call for exclusion so loud here, and comparatively muted elsewhere?

These are not questions of deflection – they are questions of consistency. And consistency matters if we are to preserve the integrity of global cultural institutions.

I also find myself reflecting on the symbolism of Eurovision itself. Hundreds of millions of viewers. A shared moment across continents. A celebration that, at its best, transcends borders. To weaponize such a platform is not just unfair – it is short-sighted.

Because in doing so, we risk eroding one of the few remaining spaces where humanity comes together not to argue, but to experience something collectively. To feel. To connect. To celebrate.

And yet, amid all this, there is hope. It lies in the thousands who signed that open letter. It lies in the fans who continue to vote based on music, not politics.

It lies in the artists – Israeli and otherwise – who step onto that stage and choose expression over division. It lies in the quiet but persistent belief that Eurovision can still be what it was meant to be. A place where difference is not a threat – but a harmony.

As I watch this year’s contest unfold, I will do so with a mixture of concern and optimism. Concern, because the pressures are real and the stakes are high. Optimism, because I have seen what Eurovision can be at its best – and I refuse to believe that spirit is gone.

The truth is, Eurovision is at a crossroads. It can continue down the path of politicization, where participation becomes a battleground and music a secondary consideration. Or it can reclaim its purpose – reaffirming that culture, at its highest level, is not about exclusion, but about encounter.

In many ways, this moment mirrors a broader global challenge. How do we hold space for complexity without collapsing into division? How do we engage with difficult realities without turning every platform into a battlefield? How do we ensure that the arts remain a bridge –  not a weapon?

These are not easy questions. But Eurovision, in its own unique way, offers an opportunity to answer them.

For Israel, the answer has been consistent. Show up. Sing. Create. Connect.

In doing so, it continues to embody something larger than the contest itself – a commitment to innovating the future of Israel through culture, creativity, and global engagement.

And perhaps that is the final note I return to. Not the noise of politics, but the clarity of purpose. Eurovision was never meant to solve the world’s problems. But it was meant to remind us – if only for a few hours – that we share a world.

A rhythm. A stage. A humanity. If we lose that, we lose far more than a song contest. We lose a piece of what makes us human.

And that, surely, is too high a price to pay.

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)