Mark Smith: Eurovision Song Contest can teach Scotland some lessons

But you may know all of this already. You may have watched the semi-final; you may also be looking forward to the finale on Saturday and who knows, you may even be the kind of person who dresses up for it. On the other hand, you may be a doubter, a sneerer, a mocker; perhaps the contest makes your teeth itch and your critical faculties run for cover; perhaps you hear Eurovision and think: boom bang a bang, and dinga dong every hour when you pick a flower. I get it. It’s bizarre.

It’s not the whole story though, although it is part of it. The absurdity of the contest is one of the reasons we love it. Some of the acts appear to simply think of something, then go for it. Like this year’s Lithuanian finger dancing: forming the E and V of Eurovision with your forefingers. Or the be-winged man singing “unchain my wings and the ocean of tears will fade to black”. And how about this for a chorus? “We’ve got stunning lasers. Time to take off your cloaks.” I have no idea what that means.

Just so you know, I’m not being a mocker here, but I am teasing and that’s ok. Some of the songs are weighed down with solemnity, some get a little lost in translation, and a few of the outfit choices could only be explained by some kind of global mirror shortage: the cockatoo (Israel, 1998), the baked potato (Ukraine, 2007), or the beardy man from Hell (Finland, 2006). It inspires affectionate bewilderment. And that’s the point: it’s affectionate.

Which is where I think Eurovision gets really interesting, because as well as being unlikely and absurd and ridiculous and joyful, it is also useful and important and clever and instructive. In fact, it has quite a lot to teach us, and it may have quite a lot to teach Scotland in particular.

If you disagree with me (what?), I recommend an excellent book: Eurovision by Chris West. It’s essentially a history of European politics as well as a history of how it reflects and interlinks with the contest, but it’s more than that: it suggests how politics could take a lead from the contest and how the songs might be reflecting – and shaping – the kind of Europe we have, and want.

Some of you may think this is a bit mad and the last thing we need is for European politics to go ding-dang-dong (in some parts, it already has). But consider what it says about diversity and tolerance. This year, for instance, Vasil Garvanliev, who’s gay, is representing North Macedonia, which still has a long way to go on LGBT rights. Sweden is represented by Tousin Chiza who was born in the Democratic Republic of Congo but fled to a refugee camp with he was five. And we must not forget Conchita Wurst, the Austrian singer who won the contest in 2014 in a beard and a dress. All of this is a reflection of what’s changing but it can also be an influence too.

And perhaps, in a small way, the contest could do even more than that and influence how we make decisions and how we vote, particularly in Scotland given the state of our politics at the moment. Chris West points out in his book that Eurovision decision-making is a nice balance of expert and popular opinion. “It isn’t a system for giving the majority whatever they want the moment they want it,” he says. “It accepts that in a complex world, experts sometimes do know best.” Interesting.

He also makes a good point about the contest’s relationship with nations. It reflects national identity, he says, but has no truck with intolerant nationalism. “It is about mutual respect,” he writes, “plus a bit of fun-poking, and has nothing to do with any kind of hate.” Essentially what he’s saying is Eurovision is about liberalism, democracy, and a gentle form of national identity. Perhaps some of the people watching in Scotland will take notice.

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