They can pull you out of the nation but they cannot pull the nation out of you. That nugget of wisdom came to me with force some years ago, one late morning in a hotel lobby in Berlin, seated in an armchair, studying the other lounging guests while waiting for a taxi.
Then, the muzak stopped, the ocean of consciousness stirred, Chiara Siracusa’s dulcet voice floated out, seeping through the air and a patriotic tide of feeling swept in. Reader, I don’t even like the Eurovision Song Contest but my soul bobbed in the wake of that ballad.
One moment I was Desmond Morris, studying the human zoo, the next I was Mr Bean, trying to catch anyone’s eye so that, with a smirk here, an eyebrow twitch there, and an eye-roll toward the loudspeaker, I could signal: “Chiara and me, we’re an item.”
Well, fellow nationals. Same motherland. Indeed, given the motherland’s affectionate nature, probably cousins.
So let’s get a few things clear from the start. Yes, I am going to comment on this year’s Eurovision contest. But, no, I’m not going to inflict my musical tastes or crack jokes at the aficionados’ expense.
The contest is a genre all of its own. That’s why a truly great song like the 1984 edition’s I Treni di Tozeur (Alice and Battiato) could trail in fifth, with fewer than half the points scored by the kitsch, yet winning, Digley-loo Digley-ley (Herrey’s). Only those who actually like Eurovision are qualified to speak of the songs’ merits (as Eurovision songs).
When it comes to Planet Eurovision, I’m Mork. But that doesn’t mean I don’t understand the spell of patriotism that goes along with it.
I just think we should look closer at the spell and what it means. If you’re disillusioned by the results, you’ve got to ask yourself if you have any other illusions.
You can’t feel disenchanted with other nations’ voting behaviour without asking yourself if you might be over-enchanted with your own.
I put it to you there are five national myths we should reconsider.
First, there’s a myth propagated by the Eurovision-scoffers, or, at any rate, those who can’t bring themselves to take it seriously and who think that the best thing about the event is the commentary by the late Terry Wogan and his successor, Graham Norton.
The myth: we Maltese take Eurovision far too seriously, unlike mature nations. Our Eurovision fandom is a parable of a Little Malta mentality.
The truth: other participating nations take it just as seriously, though not necessarily for the same reasons. Why else would the Big Five want guaranteed places in the finals and lobby for the singing order that favours them? Why else would you have squabbles over the implied meaning of lyrics, or last-minute withdrawals, especially on the Eastern Front?
The contest may be a world of its own but that doesn’t mean it’s isolated. It’s networked to the universe of global markets and international politics.
Winning may make a difference to the national tourism industry. An LGBTQ winner may threaten the macho nationalism promoted in a country like Russia or the official public morality promoted in China. Agreeing to participate in a contest that features a state whose legitimacy your own country negates – that can lead to legal and diplomatic complications later.
Destiny is a perfect example of the complexity of national identity- Ranier Fsadni
The issue is not whether Eurovision is taken too seriously but whether it’s taken seriously for clear-eyed reasons.
The second myth is propagated by a segment of Eurovision fans: the contest is a clear example of how the world conspires against us, rigging the vote.
The truth: given what’s really at stake – markets and state conflicts – other nations vote exactly as we’d expect them to. Indeed, if Malta could rig the vote in its own favour, the same patriots would call crazy anyone who objected on ethical grounds.
We should recognise the competition for what it is: an excellent platform for our singers to be seen by professional talent spotters but not something we should expect to win.
This isn’t just a homily about attitude. It should govern our decisions about how and how much to invest in the contest.
It should also inform our attitude towards other European contests, including the nakedly political and economic ones. We can’t complain about other nations’ strategies and tactics when we ourselves misread the game or think our own fouls won’t be spotted by the referees.
Third myth: Destiny Chukunyere, we’re proud of you.
The truth: many of those saying it are not. Otherwise, they would take seriously what the song is saying. It’s defiant in the face of real sexism and racism in our society (yes, elsewhere, too).
The song isn’t just taking a Maltese voice out to the world. It’s challenging Malta. Anyone saying they’re proud of Destiny should be asked if she would be proud of them.
Fourth myth: if you really love your country, you should keep domestic politics at home and not pursue it on the European stage.
The truth: racism and sexism are domestic political problems and Destiny just took them to the European stage. Do you have a problem with that? Is she a traitor?
Sure, there are right ways and wrong ways of discussing national politics on a European stage. So let’s discuss what’s right and wrong.
Fifth myth: identity is simple. You’re either Maltese or you’re not.
The truth: Destiny is a perfect example of the complexity of national identity. She rocks for Malta while recognising she wouldn’t be what she is without her father’s Nigerian background.
Last word to Mork. Let this year’s Eurovision song change the subject – from asking whether we love the country to whether the country is loveable. Nanu, Nanu.