Nemo, the Swiss winner of Eurovision in 2024, recently announced they’d return their trophy in solidarity with other countries’ boycott of the contest. The events have challenged Eurovision’s longstanding claim of ‘neutrality’, a claim that seems increasingly untenable.

Since its first edition in 1956, the Eurovision Song Contest has become one of Europe’s most beloved cultural institutions. Nine-figure viewing numbers aside, the show has a particular appeal to the LGBTQ+ community because of its kitschiness. Most of all, Eurovision has, for the most part, maintained a veneer of “cultural neutrality,” as my colleague Sasha Brandt wrote last week.
That veneer continues to chip. Israel’s inclusion in the 2026 Eurovision lineup has caused great controversy, particularly over the last fortnight. The humanitarian crisis in Gaza, described by the United Nations and many human rights experts as a genocide committed by Israel, has killed tens of thousands and displaced the majority of the population, who now face a punishing famine. In particular, five countries – Iceland, Ireland, the Netherlands, Slovenia and Spain – recently announced they would boycott the 2026 edition to protest Israel’s involvement; a proposed separate vote on Israel’s participation was bypassed.
These acts of protest follow two increasingly tense competitions, in 2024 and 2025, in the throes of Israel’s military operations in Gaza. Though an official ceasefire began on October 10 this year, Israel has broken it close to 600 times, according to Al Jazeera. In both these editions, Israel’s Eurovision entry song has been curiously engineered to evoke sympathy for a genocidal state: 2024’s ‘Hurricane’ was a rewrite of a song called ‘October Rain’, which described Hamas’ attacks on October 7; the following year, the entry ‘New Day Will Rise’ was performed by Yuval Raphael, herself a survivor of the Hamas attacks. Each would have been a genuinely poignant moment if Israel weren’t decimating life in the background.
The most recent statement of protest is from Nemo, the Swiss winner of the 2024 edition of Eurovision. Posting a statement to Instagram, the non-binary singer said that they’d be returning their trophy to the European Broadcasting Union (EBU), who runs the contest. Nemo explained: “Eurovision says it stands for unity, inclusion, and dignity for all,” but Israel’s participation in the contest “shows a clear conflict between those ideals and the decisions made by the EBU.”
Nemo’s careful articulation here reveals a kind of implicit strategy intended to elicit sympathy – ironically, not unlike Israel’s aforementioned narratives around its last two entries. (It should be noted that these two gestures carry vastly different ethical weights.) The use of the trophy, a physical marker of the EBU’s perceived ethical shortfall, goes beyond a simple condemnation to symbolise a personal disappointment. Indeed, Eurovision’s glossy celebration of artifice – a camp, unserious, depoliticised show – was the core appeal for queer people like Nemo, who sought escapism from a heavily politicised life. The double standard is apparent.
The timing of this announcement, as with the withdrawal of the five countries, is also coincidentally strategic, coming amid ae crucial period of national selection processes and budget planning for the upcoming contest. Nemo’s protest immediately increases the reputational risk for national broadcasters still planning to participate, and invites others in a similar position to follow suit. The call is now very much coming from inside the house.
Eurovision’s next edition, the final of which will be held in May 2026 in Vienna, Austria, will no doubt be one of the most consequential in its history. It follows the country’s Eurovision victory the previous year, with the song ‘Wasted Love’, which was performed by JJ, on his name Johannes Pietsch – the first out gay man to win the contest. That song’s win came with the proclamation that “love wins […] forget hate, love is the strongest force.” Of Israel’s participation in that edition, he said: “I would like Eurovision to be held in Vienna next year and without Israel. But the ball is in the EBU’s court. We, the artists, can only raise our voices on the matter.”
Eurovision, meanwhile, now stands at a revealing juncture. Some of its most prominent entrants are absent – Spain is one of the ‘big five’ nations; Ireland has won the contest more times than any country bar Sweden; the Netherlands was a founding member in 1956 – and its winner from last year stands in defiant opposition. In some way, by continuing to defend Israel at the expense of numerous other participants, the contest continues to deny its own values of neutrality.
That neutrality has always been somewhat of a performance. In 2022, following Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, the former country was banned from participating in Eurovision. But that illusion is shattered in times of human rights emergencies. The situation in Gaza, meanwhile, has been called a “humanitarian crisis” by the head of the UN Human Rights Office in the Occupied Palestinian Territory. Eurovision’s fantasy of safety and belonging is therefore soiled by Israel’s inclusion. The competition may, in the process, lose the audience that treasures the contest the most.
Subscribe to our newsletter here.
* * *
When we learn of a mistake, we acknowledge it with a correction. If you spot an error, please let us know.
* * *
You can listen to our podcast Queer News & Journalism on your favourite platform or go to our YouTube Channel @GAY45mag.
* * *
Let us know what you think at [email protected].
* * *
Submit a letter to the editor at [email protected].
* * *
We appreciate it. Thanks for reading.


