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ONEurope Long Read
The Eurovision Song Contest began in 1956 as a bold experiment by the European Broadcasting Union (EBU) – a collaboration of public service broadcasters – to unite a war-torn Europe through live television and music. Inspired by Italy’s Sanremo Festival, Swiss TV executive Marcel Bezençon (pictured) and an EBU committee envisioned a pan-European broadcast that would showcase cultural unity and broadcasting excellence across member countries.
The inaugural contest in Lugano, Switzerland featured just seven countries, with the aim of bringing Europeans together in a “grand prix” of song. This founding mission was unmistakably public service-oriented: the EBU’s members pooled their resources to produce a shared live event promoting harmony, innovation, and the free exchange of culture via public media. Over the decades, Eurovision became an annual celebration of Europe’s diversity – often lovingly lampooned for its cheesy pop and friendly rivalries, yet fundamentally rooted in the ideals of unity and public broadcasting. EBU officials long touted the contest’s apolitical spirit and its role in “connecting” nations.
But nearly 70 years on, amid dramatic changes in technology and geopolitics, critics are asking whether Eurovision still fulfils that original public service mission or whether it has drifted into something more commercial and global than its founders envisaged.
From European stages to global screens
One unmistakable shift is Eurovision’s explosive growth on digital and global platforms. What was once a single televised show for European audiences is now a sprawling online phenomenon with worldwide reach. Hundreds of millions now watch and engage beyond the traditional TV broadcasts, thanks to the contest’s heavy presence on platforms like YouTube, Instagram and TikTok.
In 2024, for example, the Eurovision shows reached 163 million TV viewers across 37 member countries, but also drew massive online engagement: the official YouTube channel attracted 42 million unique viewers from 231 countries during the live week, and Eurovision’s entertainment partner TikTok saw 486 million unique accounts reached during the event – more than four times the previous year. Clips tagged #Eurovision2024 were viewed 6.5 billion times on TikTok. A new “Eurovision Song Contest” app drew 2.5 million users.
This digital expansion means Eurovision is no longer confined to EBU member channels or even to Europe. Global viewers can watch the live stream on YouTube and follow every rehearsal on social media, often independent of any national broadcaster. In 2023 the EBU even introduced a “Rest of the World” online vote, allowing fans in non-participating countries to cast votes. By 2024, viewers from 156 countries – from the USA and Canada to South Africa and Mexico – participated in voting, thanks to this global online ballot.
Rest of the world
Eurovision had already stretched beyond geographic Europe by inviting Australia as a contestant since 2015, and now effectively welcomes any country’s audience as voters. Eurovision’s organisers portray this global growth as a triumph, extending the contest’s unifying ethos worldwide.
Martin Green, the contest’s director, argued that in today’s fragmented media landscape, Eurovision remains “a unique global moment”, bringing audiences back to live TV “while simultaneously thriving across digital platforms and reaching new generations in new ways.”
EBU executives likewise hailed record-breaking reach in 2025, with the contest branded “the world’s largest music event” uniting audiences across continents. Jean Philip De Tender, EBU’s Deputy Director General, celebrated how EBU Member broadcasters still drew “hundreds of millions” of live viewers even as digital engagement hit new highs, saying it “harness[es] the power of public service media to reach audiences around the world.”
While these platforms bring Eurovision to a massive global fanbase, they also commercialise the experience and lie outside the control of public broadcasters. The reliance on social-media algorithms and corporate tech raises concerns for some analysts about the EBU’s independence.
Eurovision’s own brand has become highly centralised under the EBU’s steering team, which manages content, social media, and sponsorship deals – potentially diminishing the influence of individual member broadcasters.
The contest’s slick online presence (complete with big sponsors like an Israeli-founded beauty brand, Moroccanoil) suggests a shift toward a global entertainment brand logic. Critics wonder if this comes at the expense of the old ethos of mutual public service collaboration.
Centralised control and tech dependence
Historically, each host broadcaster had leeway to imprint their identity on Eurovision’s production. Today, however, a core Eurovision executive group travels year to year to ensure consistency and brand value. The EBU hires high-profile producers and directors (often from international event circles) to work with host TV networks.
This centralised management, while professionalising the show, can also be seen as the EBU asserting commercial control over what was once a more member-driven event. For example, Martin Österdahl (pictured), the Executive Supervisor since 2020, and Martin Green, the 2025 Contest Director, act on behalf of the EBU to enforce rules and shape the spectacle, ensuring it aligns with Eurovision’s global brand strategy.
One manifestation is the contest’s deep partnerships with tech giants. The official voting and viewer interaction now rely on apps and online services that often originate outside Europe. While televoting still runs through telephone networks in each country, the new online voting for international audiences is conducted via a centralised platform (accepting credit card payments for vote bundles). The platform is operated by a German company called Once. Eurovision’s outreach to younger audiences has leaned on social media challenges, influencer content, and even augmented-reality and AI-powered graphics in recent shows.
All of this showcases innovation – which is in line with the EBU’s mission to be technologically cutting-edge – but it also underscores how entwined Eurovision has become with global commercial tech infrastructure. Some public media analysts caution that this dependency on Big Tech could dilute the contest’s public service character. The EBU is obliged to abide by YouTube’s and TikTok’s rules and monetisation practices. The user data and engagement metrics are largely in Silicon Valley’s hands rather than Europe’s public sphere.
In a way, Eurovision’s village square has moved from the town hall to the global mall – raising questions about who ultimately benefits from the immense online traffic and branding.
Votes, politics and the 2024 controversies
Nothing has tested Eurovision’s identity as a public service, apolitical event more than the controversies of 2024 and 2025. A series of flashpoints – especially involving Israel’s participation during the Gaza war – has led many to question whether the contest still lives up to its unifying, non-commercial ideals.
In Eurovision 2024 (held in Malmö, Sweden), Israel’s entry became a lightning rod. The Israeli broadcaster Kan had to alter the lyrics of its song “October Rain” because they were deemed too directly referential to that country’s conflict with Hamas. Although politics are officially banned from Eurovision, real-world tensions were creeping in. Israel ultimately placed 5th in 2024, but notably won the second-highest public televote that year.
By Eurovision 2025 in Basel, Switzerland, Israel’s entrant Yuval Raphael – a survivor of the October 2023 terror attack – won the public vote outright with a huge tally of 297 televote points, though she only finished second overall once jury votes were added. This outcome set off a firestorm of concern among broadcasters. Within days, at least half a dozen national broadcasters (roughly a quarter of this year’s participants) formally raised complaints about the integrity and fairness of the voting.
Public TV networks from Ireland, Norway, the Netherlands, Belgium, Spain, Iceland and Finland are among those demanding an investigation or audit of the televote results.
Their worry? That the public vote – especially with online voting open to the world – was vulnerable to manipulation, bloc voting, or undue influence from coordinated campaigns. Indeed, evidence emerged that an Israeli government agency had orchestrated an aggressive voting drive: the EBU’s own independent news unit revealed that the Israeli Government Advertising Agency placed targeted ads on Google/YouTube instructing people how to vote up to 20 times for Israel’s song.
While such promotion wasn’t technically against the rules, many felt it violated the spirit of fair play. “A system in which everyone can cast up to 20 votes is a system that encourages manipulation,” noted a Flemish MP, pointing out how easy it was for well-funded campaigns to sway results. European broadcasters took the unprecedented step of publicly questioning Eurovision’s governance. Spain’s RTVE called for a “complete review” of the voting system to prevent “external interference”. Finland’s Yle said it would ask whether the rules need updating to guard against abuses. Ireland’s RTÉ requested full transparency with a breakdown of votes, and Iceland’s RÚV and others sought data and discussions on reform.
Perhaps most striking, the Dutch broadcasters AVROTROS/NPO issued a joint statement bluntly questioning whether Eurovision still fulfils its core mission: “We see that the event is increasingly influenced by societal and geopolitical tensions… Israel’s participation confronts us with the question to what extent the Eurovision Song Contest still functions as an apolitical, connecting and cultural event.”.
They vowed to make this a topic of debate “within the EBU, together with other countries.”
Founding ethos
Such words cut to the heart of Eurovision’s founding ethos. When multiple member broadcasters – the very stewards of the contest – openly doubt that the show is truly “unifying” and non-political, it signals a serious crisis of purpose. The Spanish Prime Minister even weighed in: in May 2025 Pedro Sánchez urged the EBU to ban Israel from Eurovision over its actions in Gaza, arguing that the contest cannot have “double standards” (Russia was barred after invading Ukraine).
This political pressure further underscored how entangled Eurovision had become in global controversies. Far from a lighthearted kumbaya of nations, the contest stage was now a place where soft power and propaganda attempts lurked behind the glitter.
As one culture commentator observed, “Eurovision doesn’t want to be about Israel–Palestine, but amid protests and boycotts, it might not have a choice.”
In response, the EBU has scrambled to defend and adjust. It insisted that its voting system is secure and “independently checked and verified”, calling it “the most advanced in the world”. Contest director Martin Green acknowledged the concerns in an open letter, and said Eurovision will review how delegations promote their acts to ensure no campaign “disproportionally affects” the vote.
The EBU’s Spotlight report on the Israeli ad blitz has prompted talk of tighter rules on paid promotions and perhaps a rethinking of the 20-vote-per-person limit. There is even discussion of whether the Rest of the World vote – a clear nod to global engagement – should be reined in or better monitored if it can be swayed by organised groups. All these steps suggest the EBU is aware that public trust in Eurovision’s fairness and purpose must be preserved. A contest seen as rigged or politicised would betray the public service values it was built on.
Public service vs. global brand
These developments lay bare a tension at the heart of modern Eurovision. On one hand, the contest remains a flagship of public service media: it’s still produced by national broadcasters (the 2025 show in Basel was run by Switzerland’s SRG SSR) and carries the banner of inclusivity, cultural exchange, and technological innovation in broadcasting. The scene on the ground often reflects that ethos – for example, at the Eurovision Village fan zone in Basel, the Swiss public broadcaster prominently hosted events and exhibits.
The EBU rightly celebrates how Eurovision brings nations together in a joyful shared experience each year. Audience ratings are booming – the 2025 Grand Final scored a 47.7% average viewing share across Europe (its highest since 2004) and utterly dominated youth demographics with over 60% of 15–24 year-olds tuning in.
By such measures, Eurovision is excelling in its public service goal of reaching and engaging a broad audience with quality programming. However, on the other hand, the contest today is also a sprawling commercial entertainment franchise with global ambitions.
Its spectacle is leveraged for branding (from tourism to sponsor product placements), and its content is optimised for international appeal – sometimes at the cost of depth or local flavour. Media critics note that some governments now treat Eurovision as a strategic PR tool: a chance to boost national image or, as in Israel’s case, to score a symbolic win amid conflict.
Soft power
This use of Eurovision for soft power was far from the idealistic spirit of 1956. “National governments increasingly use Eurovision as a strategic tool for public relations and diplomacy,” observes cultural analyst Korinne Algie, warning that the contest’s picture-perfect unity is being “tarnished by political tensions”.
Likewise, Eurovision’s push into markets worldwide raises questions of motive – is it about spreading a public service message of togetherness, or simply about expanding a lucrative brand?
Critics point out that inviting “rest of the world” audiences (and their wallets) into the voting process effectively turns Eurovision into a global product, arguably diluting the influence of smaller EBU member countries and public-service values in favour of sheer scale and commercial reach.
Even within Europe, the EBU’s identity is under strain. The Guardian’s Chris West notes that the EBU was founded with a “critical, liberal” ethos – only independent public broadcasters (not government mouthpieces) were allowed. But now public broadcasters themselves are politically embattled, and the EBU’s mission is contested by both left and right.
In this climate, Eurovision’s every decision – whom to include, what rules to change – is scrutinised for political bias or hypocrisy. The decision to ban Russia but not Israel, for instance, has been hotly debated, leaving the EBU in a damned-if-you-do, damned-if-you-don’t situation. Maintaining a stance of strict neutrality and “music only” is increasingly difficult when the contest is so globally prominent.
Balancing unity with reality
Going forward, many commentators suggest the EBU may need to officially update Eurovision’s mission statement to reflect these new realities. The original goal of “uniting Europe on public broadcast networks” could be expanded to “uniting audiences globally through public service content”, acknowledging that the contest now touches people far beyond the EBU’s membership.
At the same time, the EBU must be careful not to lose what makes Eurovision special. Its core public service ethos – celebrating cultural diversity, fostering cooperation, and providing shared family entertainment – is still its beating heart.
As media scholar Dean Vuletic has argued, Eurovision has always been both a cultural show and a political barometer; navigating that dual identity is part of its legacy. The challenge now is to ensure the contest’s explosive growth in size and commercialisation does not erode its credibility or its community spirit.
At a crossroads
In a sense, Eurovision stands at a crossroads between public service values and global entertainment pressures. The contest that once simply linked European TV studios via coaxial cable is now a behemoth spanning television, apps, arenas, and millions of mobile screens. It continues to bring joy and a sense of collective festivity to people – arguably fulfilling Bezençon’s dream in a new form, by uniting not just Europe but a world of music lovers.
But to truly uphold its founding mission, Eurovision may need to recommit to the principles of fairness, inclusion, and cultural respect that got it this far.
That could mean reining in the excesses of hyper-competition and commercial hype, and listening to its member broadcasters when they cry foul. It might even mean accepting that some global ambitions should take a back seat to the contest’s public service core.
As the EBU and its members gather to debrief the turbulent 2024–25 events, the conversation will likely be frank. Is Eurovision still mainly a public service initiative, or has it become something else entirely? The answer may be a bit of both.
Striking a balance between being a glitzy world-stage show and a principled public broadcaster project will determine whether Eurovision can continue to wear its crown as “Europe’s favourite TV show” with integrity.
One thing is clear: the contest’s ability to adapt has kept it alive for nearly 70 years. If it can adapt its mission and governance now to match the new landscape, Eurovision can continue to thrive – not just as a global spectacle, but as an embodiment of the very public service values that gave it life in 1956.
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