The Final Straw

Joost Klein’s disqualification in 2024 was, for me, the final straw. Europapa wasn’t just a performance — it was a raw, personal tribute to his late parents that resonated across Europe. Afterward, overwhelmed, he repeatedly asked not to be filmed while leaving the stage. The crew ignored him. When a camera operator kept filming, Joost shielded himself. He didn’t lash out. He didn’t touch anyone.

Even so, the EBU kicked him out within hours. A proper investigation never happened. There was no room for nuance. Instead, they sacrificed him to protect Eurovision’s fragile image. Dutch broadcaster AVROTROS rightly condemned the decision as disproportionate. And when Swedish prosecutors dropped all charges, the truth surfaced: there was never a legal basis for action.

Still, no apology followed. No effort was made to revisit the case. And not once did the EBU offer a transparent explanation. Clearly, they didn’t seek truth — they sought control.

Selective Enforcement, Strategic Silence

Joost got erased for setting a boundary. Meanwhile, other delegations — especially Israel’s — faced no consequences, despite multiple reports of harassment and provocation backstage. Several artists, including Joost, flagged incidents. Nevertheless, the EBU looked away. Not a warning. Not a single investigation. No accountability.

So why the difference? Because the rules only apply when it’s politically safe. Israel came armed with a powerful narrative — and a major sponsor: Moroccanoil, an Israeli-founded brand deeply embedded in the contest. As a result, they were shielded from scrutiny.

Clearly, fairness isn’t the goal. The EBU enforces rules to manage image — not to ensure integrity.

The Europapa Erasure: Censorship by Omission

In 2025, the EBU aired a segment on the most-streamed Eurovision songs that didn’t win. Europapa ranked among the top four — yet it was completely omitted.

That wasn’t a mistake. On the contrary, it was a choice.

Despite continuing to profit from the song — hosting it on official platforms, playing it during Eurovision broadcasts — the EBU refused to acknowledge its impact. When the moment came to reflect actual data and honor a song that touched millions, they deliberately erased it.

This isn’t neutrality. Instead, this is cowardice dressed up as policy.

You can’t quietly celebrate an artist behind the scenes and publicly pretend they don’t exist. That’s not diplomacy — it’s hypocrisy.

The Political Chessboard Beneath the Glitter

Eurovision’s “no politics” rule has become meaningless. For example, Ukraine’s win in 2022 with Stefania clearly rode on a wave of global sympathy. By 2025, Israel’s entry by Yuval Raphael followed a similar playbook: emotional storytelling backed by organized international voting campaigns.

Yes, the songs may stand on their own. However, that’s not what’s at stake here. Eurovision has shifted. The show now rewards soft power — emotional leverage, symbolic gestures, and geopolitical branding.

In the end, music is no longer the main act. Perception is.

A Contest of Clowns and Cowards

Martin Österdahl and the current EBU leadership have created a culture of spineless PR management. Fairness isn’t defended — it’s discarded when inconvenient. Controversy is only confronted when it threatens the brand — especially if it comes from someone like Joost Klein.

In contrast, the vulnerable get silenced. The powerful enjoy protection. Double standards aren’t an accident — they’re part of the design. Outrage doesn’t get addressed. Instead, it’s spun, diluted, and contained.

This isn’t leadership. It’s damage control. And it’s not fit for a show that claims to reflect Europe’s cultural soul.

What Needs to Change

If Eurovision wants to mean something again, here’s what must happen:

• Limit public voting to participating countries only. Letting outsiders tilt the outcome distorts the contest.
• Enforce the “no politics” rule across the board. All or nothing.
• Communicate disciplinary actions transparently. No more vague removals or unexplained bans.
• Ban politically sensitive sponsors. Culture should not be for sale.
• Replace the current leadership. Rebuilding trust starts at the top.
• Refocus on music. Reward talent — not storytelling spin.

A Call to the Netherlands

At this point, I genuinely believe the Netherlands should take a step back from Eurovision — even temporarily. Not out of bitterness, but as a principled choice. When your delegation gets dismissed, your artist humiliated, and justice cast aside, staying feels like silent approval.

Perhaps walking away isn’t surrender. On the contrary, it might be the last honest thing left to do.

Final Thoughts

This isn’t about hate. Not toward any artist. Not toward any country. This is about defending the heart of Eurovision — a contest once built on joy, inclusion, and musical discovery.

Today, it feels hollow. The show glitters, but it’s empty inside. Most of it feels rehearsed. And the music? Almost an afterthought.

If this is what “United by Music” now means — then maybe it’s time we all looked in the mirror.