The banning of LGBTQ flags is not an attempt at neutrality, but censorship and an erosion of rights
— By G. Tsitiridis
Nemo’s victory last year with the song “The Code” brings this year’s 69th Eurovision Song Contest to Basel, Switzerland, from May 13 (with the start of the semi-finals) until the grand final on Saturday, May 17 at 21:00 Central European Time (22:00 in Greece).
Every year at this time, the contest monopolizes the media for many and varied reasons. Whether it’s about which country will be the favorite, some peculiar costume or stage detail, the lyrics, the relationships—whether in conflict or alliance—between participating countries, mistakes in rehearsals, on-camera comments by participants, and so on. Many of the contestants choose, through their appearances, to convey political and social messages among others: Palestinian flags, statements about Israel’s participation and Russia’s exclusion, Ukrainian flags, rainbow-colored clothing and LGBT pride flags…
About ten countries have withdrawn in recent years for various—mostly economic—reasons, among them Hungary, which expressed its opposition to the universal values promoted by Eurovision. In fact, Hungary’s president, Viktor Orbán, recently passed a law banning Pride parades in the country, despite fierce reactions from humanitarian organizations. In the days that followed, Parliament also voted to temporarily expel six opposition MPs and dock their salaries for six months because they used colored flares inside the chamber during a vote. It was the first time MPs had ever been expelled from the Hungarian Parliament since 1990.
The next country to withdraw—initially in protest of the voting system—was Turkey, which does not appear likely to return soon, as it disagrees both politically and on LGBTQ issues with the contest. The fact that Eurovision in recent years has supported diversity, freedom, and inclusion also found opposition in countries such as North Macedonia, Bulgaria, and Romania.
Despite this, organizers and contestants did not stop publicly supporting their decision to be openly inclusive, allowing participants such as Dana International and the drag performer Conchita Wurst to compete and win, as well as non-binary, openly gay, and lesbian performers. Reactions on social media, talk-show panels, and television programs have varied, with negative responses increasing over time.
This year, the focus of discussion is the EBU’s decision to eliminate press conferences and ban (without specifying penalties for non-compliance) the use of any flags other than the national flags of competing countries—such as the Pride flag, political and social flags (e.g., the trans, non-binary, and intersex flags, the peace flag, and the feminist flag), as well as the flags of other nations, such as Palestine. According to the announcement, the aim is to maintain neutrality and depoliticize the contest.
Many greeted the news with joy, excitement, and relief, calling it a “return to normalcy.” Among them are the traditional Eurovision detractors, opposed both to free expression and to extending rights to LGBTQ people, whom they claim have distorted not only the contest but society as a whole. Another group, who see themselves on the side of those who recognize freedom of expression, feel somewhat “uncomfortable” with what they describe as “excessive freedom.”
Of course, no artist is obliged to wave a rainbow flag, speak openly about their sexuality, or kiss onstage. LGBTQ participants did not increase to “erase” heterosexuals. The fact that earlier artists did not express themselves more openly out of fear of rejection and stigma does not mean that there were no LGBTQ artists in previous decades.
Much has changed since 1956, when the familiar musical signal that marks the start of Eurovision was first heard. The contest no longer focuses solely on music, as the EBU would have us believe it should, because today’s music industry has evolved to the point that lights, visuals, sets, costumes, and special effects are an integral part of the spectacle. The single-camera setups of the 1960s and ‘70s and the spare stage presentations of the 1980s have been replaced by blockbuster productions designed to astonish, driven by ever-higher audience expectations that demand ever more imaginative choices from the organizers.
At the same time, the contest’s financial scale has changed: its funding relies in part on large, expensive advertising contracts with corporate giants, whose displeasure and directives influence decision-makers—especially when it comes to political statements amid conflicts between participating countries.
This debate reignited after Israel’s attacks on Palestine and the country’s continued participation in the contest. In a competition where countries have long awarded each other points based on alliances—without anyone complaining or being concerned—the decision to ban flags in order to make Eurovision “apolitical” may produce exactly the opposite effect, as we have seen in similar cases. Spectators aren’t limited to which flags they can bring, and in reaction they may fill the venue with them.
Moreover, aside from the flag itself, nothing prevents the rainbow flag or colors reminiscent of a national flag from appearing in clothing, sets, lapel pins, hats, or hair dye. It’s most likely that artists and attendees will react to the ban by finding creative ways to convey their message. A notable example discussed recently was Cate Blanchett’s appearance at Cannes, where her choice of dress, combined with the red carpet, formed the colors of the Palestinian flag.
Banning LGBTQ flags in a Europe that once led the way in securing rights and freedom of expression is not an attempt at neutrality, but censorship and an erosion of rights. It is no coincidence that this coincides with and is driven by the hate-filled rhetoric of Trump-style politics, which is hostile to refugees, migrants, LGBTQ people, and anything different. When a music contest that should promote freedom of expression begins by banning the ways artists may express themselves, even worse restrictions may follow in the future.
By G. Tsitiridis
