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21 May 2007
ONE of the unexpected pleasures of spending a sabbatical in Britain
has been the chance to watch the Eurovision Song Contest, held the Saturday
before last in Helsinki. For those not familiar with this quirkiest
of European traditions (which last year celebrated its 50th anniversary),
the contest involves 42 European countries Israel
and Turkey are included, for example each of which submits a
song to be sung by a band of that nationality.
The rules governing the contest are a little strange, and so is the
singing, which appears to emphasize camp over more conventional notions
of quality. Britains entrant, Scooch, put on a saucy, flight-attendant-
inspired act that would have made Abba (the 1974 winner) proud, while
Verka Serduchka, a Ukrainian drag queen, came out looking like a silver-foil
version of Mrs. Doubtfire. The Greeks, meanwhile, were doing their best
Ricky Martin, Belarus looked fresh out of a James Bond trailer and Hungary
apparently had ditched the whole Euro thing and opted for what sounded
suspiciously like country.
In short, its a great show, but the best part is the voting, which
is done American Idol-style via text messaging. Anyone can
vote as many times as he likes, the one restriction being that he cant
vote for his own country. The votes are tallied nationally, and breathless
representatives call in the results to Helsinki, allocating 12 points
to their countrys top choice, 10 to second place, 8 to third,
and so on down to 1 point for 10th.
Now, I dont know much about contemporary music, but as they say,
I know what I like. And watching the 24 acts in the final (a preliminary
round removes the other 18), I felt Sweden and Britain were clear standouts,
given the silliness of the whole thing. I also had the overwhelming
feeling that the Serbian entry, a turgid ballad called Molitva,
or Prayer, didnt stand a chance.
So imagine my surprise when Serbia not only won, but crushed the opposition,
beating second-place Ukraine (yes, the drag queen) by 268 points to
235. Britain, with a paltry 19 points, narrowly edged out Ireland to
avoid last place; and Sweden scraped together a meager 51 points, coming
in 18th out of 24. What was going on? Two words that were shouted across
the British dailies the next day: Bloc Voting.
I had heard about this practice, of course, whereby geographical and
cultural neighbors tend to vote for each other, and nobody votes for
Britain (well, except for Malta). But it was startling to see just how
flagrant it was. The Scandinavians all voted for one another; Lithuania
gave 10 points to Latvia (whose entry, bizarrely, sang in Italian);
former Warsaw Pact countries voted for Russia; and almost nobody voted
for Britain (surprisingly, Ireland did and, of course, Malta).
But Serbia was the overwhelming beneficiary of the system, receiving
the top score of 12 points from every other member of the former Yugoslavia
Bosnia-Herzegovina, Croatia, Macedonia, Montenegro and Slovenia
suggesting that memories of war and ethnic cleansing can be set
aside with surprising ease when it comes to the serious business of
winning a singing contest. Its hard to say whether the 60 points
that the former Yugoslavia effectively gave to itself altered the final
result, but an enterprising Irishman suggested that if all the Irish
counties were allowed to secede, they would be unstoppable.
Does it matter? Probably not. Its just a game, after all, and
the outrageous bias in the voting is as entertaining as the songs themselves.
But it does offer an unexpected glimpse of how ordinary Europeans perceive
one another. More than anything, it seems, blood is thicker than water,
and not just in the Balkans. That Germany gave 12 points to Turkey,
for example, probably reflects the large number of Turks living in Germany
more than it does a German predilection for scantily clad dancers (of
which there were plenty of choices).
But it was also obvious how little love Eastern Europe feels for the
West. Although the big four Britain, France, Germany
and Spain (Italy does not participate) basically pay for the
contest, none of them made it into the top 16; and Turkey, which you
might have expected to be playing nice, given its pending European Union
membership application, awarded not a single point to any big four or
Scandinavian nation.
This pointed rejection of Western Europe might even be seen as a poignant
metaphor for contemporary Europe as a whole. The large, industrialized
nations magnanimously invite their poorer but more numerous eastern
cousins to join their party, and offer to pay the bill, only to discover
themselves locked out in the garden while their new friends complain
about the quality of the liquor and the arrogance of the hosts.
The hosts, meanwhile, cant get along either the big four
collectively awarded one another a grand total of just 12 points. So
although it was more than a little odd that the countries that actually
tried to help in Bosnia are substantially less popular there than the
country that instigated ethnic cleansing, it was equally odd that the
Balkans, of all places, was effectively handing the western countries
a lesson in cooperation.
The annual chance to score yourself in the eyes of your fellow Europeans
might not be a bad thing, however: the Serbs and their neighbors are
now going through an outpouring of pride and brotherly love. Its
hard not to think thats somehow more useful than crowning the
successor to Abba. Last week in Britain, meanwhile, for all the cries
of foul play, there was a hint of I wouldnt say soul-searching
but perhaps head-scratching over what might be done to reverse
the tide of resentment from traditional allies and newly minted European
states alike. If nothing else, that seems like a good conversation to
start.
Now, apparently, NBC has the rights to bring a version of Eurovision
to the United States, with all 50 states competing. I hope they do it,
but only if they keep the same voting system. It may not tell us much
about the music we produce or like; but in a patchwork quilt of a country,
with red versus blue states, North versus South, East Coast versus West
Coast, the Midwest versus everyone and who-knows-what going on
in Texas it may tell us a lot about what we really think of one
another.
Duncan J. Watts is a professor of sociology at Columbia.
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