diplomacy

The Eurovision likes to sell itself as a glittering exercise in European unity, colorful, loud, proudly diverse, and (officially) above politics. Yet anyone who has watched the contest with both eyes open knows that “apolitical” has always been more of a brand promise than a lived reality. In late 2025, that gap widened into a full-blown crisis, as a number of broadcasters reported across outlets that Spain, Ireland, Slovenia, the Netherlands, and Iceland signaled they would not take part in Eurovision 2026 after the European Broadcasting Union (EBU) decided not to exclude Israel amid the ongoing war in Gaza, Palestine.

This episode is not simply “politics invading culture.” It reflects a shift in how legitimacy is demanded and contested in Europe’s cultural diplomacy, particularly when public broadcasters operate under constant online scrutiny. A constructivist lens helps explain why withdrawal can become socially “appropriate” not only because of interests, but because identities, norms, and public expectations set the boundaries of acceptable action.

Eurovision’s political DNA

Eurovision was launched in 1956 as a post-war cultural bridge. Its origin story is important: a shared stage was meant to build familiarity, and familiarity was meant to soften rivalry. That heritage still shapes the contest’s self-image. But Eurovision has long functioned as a stage where politics appears in coded ways through voting patterns, representation debates, and symbolic messaging.

In 2026, the argument is no longer coded. The EBU’s insistence that Eurovision must remain apolitical is being tested by publics who increasingly expect cultural institutions to reflect basic humanitarian values. This tension has been building for years, but the Palestine crisis and the EBU’s decisions have turned it into a legitimacy problem, not merely a public relations headache.

Why withdrawal became “appropriate”

Constructivism in international relations focuses on how identities and norms shape behavior. States and national institutions do not act only from material interests; they also act from what is socially acceptable, what fits their self-image, and the expectations of their audiences.

Three dynamics stand out.

Identity signalling, domestically and externally

For several withdrawing countries, participation carried an identity cost. Public broadcasters—especially those that see themselves as guardians of civic values—operate within national narratives about solidarity, rights, and moral responsibility. Remaining in the contest while public debate framed Israel’s participation as incompatible with humanitarian concerns risked looking like complicity or indifference. Withdrawal, by contrast, functioned as a signal: this is who we are, and this is the line we will not cross.

Importantly, this signalling was not addressed only to external audiences. It was also addressed inward towards domestic publics, artists, and civil society networks. In many European societies, those constituencies are no longer passive consumers of cultural events; they are active participants in the reputational economy surrounding public institutions.

Norm cascades and moral momentum

Once a few broadcasters moved towards withdrawal, the decision quickly gained social momentum. This is what Finnemore and Sikkink described as a “norm cascade”: when a norm shifts from being optional to being expected, and the reputational cost of non-compliance rises. In practical terms, it can start to feel safer to leave than to stay—because staying invites condemnation, while leaving can be framed as moral coherence.

This is also why the dispute escalated so quickly. A single broadcaster withdrawing is a story. Multiple broadcasters withdrawing is a pattern, and patterns trigger moral comparisons. The question changes from “Why did they leave?” to “Why are you still staying?”

The ‘apolitical’ norm is under strain because it looks selective.

The apolitical claim does not collapse simply because people become more emotional. It collapses when it appears inconsistent. Critics repeatedly pointed to Russia’s exclusion in 2022 after the invasion of Ukraine and asked why a different standard was being applied now. The EBU, for its part, has emphasized the contest’s non-political ethos and introduced new rules aimed at insulating Eurovision from government influence.

But in the public sphere, the argument is not purely procedural. It is moral and comparative: if Eurovision can act decisively in one case, why not in another?

Constructivism predicts that institutions struggle when the norms they rely on no longer align with the moral intuitions of their audiences. That is exactly what this crisis reveals.

Digital activism as a legitimacy engine

If this controversy had happened twenty years ago, it would likely have moved more slowly, mediated by newspapers and official statements. Today it unfolds in a real-time digital public sphere where narratives travel quickly across borders and reputational costs escalate fast. Online mobilization—through petitions, artist statements, and hashtag campaigns—helped turn Eurovision into a symbolic battleground, pressuring broadcasters to respond to highly visible moral claims.

Two effects matter most. First, digital dynamics accelerate moral consolidation, which means once “selective neutrality” becomes a dominant frame, hesitation itself is read as a political stance. Second, institutions face continuous visibility. Decisions are no longer a single event but an ongoing justification process, renewed by viral moments and high-profile protest actions linked to Israel’s inclusion.

For cultural diplomacy, this shifts the logic of soft power from image-making towards moral credibility under public scrutiny.

Withdrawal as cultural diplomacy

Withdrawal from Eurovision is, in a strict sense, symbolic. But symbolism is precisely what cultural diplomacy trades in. The act of leaving, particularly when done by public broadcasters, served three strategic functions.

First, moral signalling, which meansbroadcasters and states communicated alignment with humanitarian values and a refusal to normalize perceived injustice.

The second one is reputation management.  In a digital environment, silence can be more costly than action. Withdrawal can reduce domestic backlash and preserve trust in public institutions.

Last, this is ethical positioning as soft power.  The logic of soft power is shifting from colorful branding to ethical coherence. A state may gain credibility not by appearing “fun,” but by appearing consistent with its professed values.

These functions help explain why the controversy is bigger than Eurovision. What is being tested is the idea that cultural platforms can remain insulated from global crises. Many audiences no longer accept that separation.

The EBU’s dilemma: rules, legitimacy, and consistency

The EBU now sits at the center of competing demands. On one side is the institutional need for predictability: rules that keep Eurovision from becoming an arena for state-to-state confrontation. On the other side is the public demand for moral consistency: rules that do not appear selective or politically convenient.

The EBU’s recent approach of avoiding an immediate exclusion decision while adjusting rules—may be defensible from a governance perspective.

Yet governance solutions do not automatically restore legitimacy, because legitimacy is also emotional and relational. It depends on whether audiences believe the institution is acting in good faith and applying standards fairly.

This is where cultural diplomacy meets a hard truth: neutrality is not simply declared; it is earned. And in the digital age, it is re-earned continuously.

What this means for Europe’s cultural diplomacy

Three implications stand out.

First, moral expectation is becoming structural.  European publics increasingly demand moral coherence not only from governments but from cultural institutions as well. Cultural diplomacy is being asked to carry ethical weight.

Second, “European values” are being operationalized. They are no longer abstract slogans. They are used as benchmarks to judge institutions and to accuse them of hypocrisy when they fall short.

Third, public opinion has become a strategic force, not background noise.  Digital mobilization can shape state behavior indirectly by pressuring broadcasters, artists, and institutions that sit at the heart of national identity.

Policy takeaways

If the EBU seeks to protect Eurovision’s legitimacy without turning it into a geopolitical tribunal, three steps would help. First, it should clarify participation principles by defining what “neutrality” means operationally and what thresholds trigger institutional action. Second, it should build a credible consistency mechanism, as audiences will continue comparing cases and demanding transparent reasoning. Third, the EBU should treat the digital sphere as part of governance: proactive engagement and rapid clarification now shape institutional survival as much as formal rule-making.

Conclusion

Eurovision 2026 is not simply a cultural controversy with political noise attached. It is a case study in how identity, norms, and digital activism are reshaping Europe’s cultural diplomacy. Constructivism helps explain why withdrawal became not only possible but, for some, necessary: it aligned state-linked institutions with the moral expectations of their publics.

Eurovision was built to bridge Europe after war. Ironically, its newest crisis shows that unity today is conditional: audiences increasingly expect cultural institutions to be transparent, consistent, and ethically credible, especially when global suffering is impossible to ignore.

Dili, East Timor – On the 50th anniversary of Indonesia’s invasion of East Timor, longtime independence advocate and now the country’s President Jose Ramos-Horta reflected on the last half-century of politics and diplomacy in his country.

Ramos-Horta was serving as the foreign minister of the newly declared Democratic Republic of East Timor in the days leading up to Indonesia’s invasion in December 1975.

Formed by the independence party Fretilin after colonial Portugal’s withdrawal from the country, the new government in East Timor’s capital Dili was under pressure from Indonesia and its threat of invasion.

As the danger intensified, Ramos-Horta flew to the United Nations in New York to plead for international recognition and protection for East Timor’s fragile independence. Despite unanimous support at the UN for Timorese self-determination, Indonesian troops launched their invasion on December 7, 1975.

Ramos-Horta’s colleagues, including Prime Minister Nicolau Lobato and other Fretilin leaders, either went into hiding or were killed in the ensuing attack. Unable to return home, Ramos-Horta became East Timor’s voice in exile for the next 24 years.

During his exile, Ramos-Horta lobbied governments, human rights organisations, and the UN to condemn Indonesia’s occupation, which resulted in the deaths of an estimated 200,000 Timorese through conflict, famine, and repression.

Silenced by a military-imposed media blackout for much of the 1980s, it was only in the 1990s that reports of Indonesian atrocities – including the 1991 Santa Cruz massacre – began to filter out and East Timor’s struggle for independence gained international attention.

Ramos-Horta’s tireless advocacy earned him a Nobel Peace Prize, along with Bishop Carlos Belo, in 1996.

A UN-sponsored referendum delivered an overwhelming vote for independence in 1999, leading to a fully independent East Timor in 2002. However, the country continues to face economic challenges and remains one of Southeast Asia’s poorest nations.

In the years overseeing his country’s transition from conflict to reconciliation, Ramos-Horta has held the roles of foreign minister, prime minister and now president.

Al Jazeera’s Ali MC sat down with Ramos-Horta on a recent trip to East Timor, where the president spoke about his country’s long road to peace and hopes for it to prosper from membership of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN), increased trade with China, and development of the offshore Greater Sunrise gas field.

Al Jazeera: Reflecting on your role as an ambassador for East Timor after Indonesia’s 1975 invasion, what were some of the key challenges that you faced while advocating for your country on the international stage?

Ramos-Horta: First, we were in the midst of the Cold War with that catastrophic US engagement in the wars against North Vietnam, Cambodia and Laos.

Then, you can say – the US defeat, if not military defeat, it was a total political defeat at the hands of the Vietnamese. So, it was in the midst of all of this that Indonesia invaded Timor-Leste [the official Portuguese-language name for East Timor], on December 7, 1975. The day before, US President Gerald Ford and Secretary of State Kissinger were in Jakarta, and they officially gave the green light to President Soeharto to invade – immorally – with the use of American weapons.

So, it was within this context that it was very challenging for us to mobilise sympathy, support and the media. The invasion merited only one small, short column in The New York Times.

In Australia, there was more coverage. But the coverage didn’t last long, because Indonesia did a very good job, with Australian complicity, in blocking any news out of East Timor. At that time, not a single journalist came – the first foreign journalist to come here was in 1987.

The absence of [proof of] death is the worst enemy of any struggle. There were terrible massacres on the day of the invasion, hundreds of people shot and dumped into the sea, including an Australian, Roger East [a journalist killed by Indonesian forces on the day of the invasion].

Many, many countless people shot on the spot. Many were alive and dragged to the port of Dili, shot and fell into the sea. Many more killed randomly around town. And zero media coverage, not a single camera.

AJ: How did that lack of media coverage make it difficult for you, as an ambassador overseas, to describe to the international community exactly what was happening in East Timor?

Ramos-Horta: Terribly difficult.

To mobilise people who are potentially sympathetic, you can do so effectively if you have a backup for what you say, what you allege, what you report. This must be backed up with visuals.

But people were sympathetic and listened to me. I was persuasive enough for them to believe what might be going on.

AJ: Given your own personal experience in the struggle for independence in East Timor, does that influence the way that you advocate? Does that bring a more personal response to your diplomacy?

Ramos-Horta: My personal instinct as a person is not shaped by anyone, by any school, any religion. It is me, always, against injustice and abuse.

Then came our experience and the fight for independence. When we fought for independence and for freedom, I went around the world begging for support, begging for sympathy. Then, we became independent.

Well, how can I not show sympathy in a real way towards the Palestinians? Why would I not show sympathy in a real way towards the people of Myanmar? Just showing sympathy, because we cannot do much more.

What can we do? We are not even a mid-sized country. But speaking out – a voice – is very important.

AJ: What are your reflections on what has occurred in Gaza?

Ramos-Horta: It is one of the most abominable humanitarian catastrophes in modern times, in the 21st century, next to the killing fields in Cambodia during Pol Pot’s regime.

The amount of bombs dropped on Gaza is more than the combined amount of the bombs dropped on London and Dresden during World War II, and more than the bombs dropped on Cambodia by the Americans during the Vietnam War.

The suffering inflicted on civilians, women and children is just unbelievable.

How we, human beings in this 21st century, can descend so low and how Israel, a country that I always admired, first out of sympathy for what Jewish people went through, through their lives, through their history – always persecuted, always having to flee, and then culminating in the horrendous Holocaust. When you survive a Holocaust experience, like the Jews, I would think that you are a person that is the most sympathetic to anyone yearning for freedom, for peace, for dignity. Because you understand.

They [Israelis] are doing the opposite.

And you have to understand, also, the people who are on the other side. You know the Palestinians, who had 70 years of occupation and brutality, they are not going to show any sympathy to the Jews or Israelis. So, this whole situation has generated hatred and polarisation as never before.

AJ: What can the international community learn from the experience of East Timor and people such as yourself?

Ramos-Horta: I am thoroughly disillusioned with the so-called international community, particularly the West, that enjoy entertaining themselves lecturing Third World countries on democracy, human rights, transparency, anticorruption, etc, etc.

They could never find the case to help poorer countries getting out of extreme poverty. But they found billions of dollars for the last three years to pump into the war in Ukraine.

I don’t condemn that. It is white people supporting white people being attacked. But then they are silent on Israel as it bulldozes the whole of Palestine; carpet bombing, killing tens of thousands of civilians.

And yet, with incredible, nauseating hypocrisy, when they are asked to comment on this, they say Israel has the right to defend itself!

Defend itself against children, against women, against students, against academics, against universities, that they bulldoze completely. Defend themselves against doctors and nurses in hospitals that they bulldoze.

And in an incredible contortion, you have the secretary-general of NATO say Iran presents a threat to the whole world. I know the whole world, literally, and I don’t know of anyone in the whole world that I know that considers Iran a threat to them.

I feel nauseated with such dishonesty, such inhumanity. So, I’m thoroughly disappointed. And I was always an admirer of the West.

AJ: Reflecting on many decades in politics in East Timor, is there anything that stands out to you as a personal success or something that you feel most proud about?

Ramos-Horta: I feel proud that we have been able to keep the country at peace. We have zero political violence. We have zero ethnic-based or religious-based tensions or violence. We don’t have even organised crime. We have never had a bank robbery or armed robbery in someone’s home. We don’t have that. And we are ranked among having the freest media in the world and the freest democracy in the world. I’m proud of my contribution in that.

AJ: East Timor is set to join the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN). What will be the benefits of being a part of that?

Ramos-Horta: We’ll be part of a community of 700 million people, a community whose combined GDP is at least $4 trillion.

And that means the possibility of Timor-Leste benefitting from our neighbours is greater. There will be more free movement of capital. There’ll be more people attracted to visit Timor-Leste and more embassies opening.

These are the benefits of being associated with an organisation like ASEAN. There are concrete, material benefits besides the importance of the strategic alliance, the strategic partnership, with our neighbours.

AJ: China is really emerging in the Southeast Asia and Pacific regions. Are there any tensions over East Timor’s relationship with China?

Ramos-Horta: We don’t view China as an enemy of anyone, unlike some in America.

The US is not able to digest the fact that China today is a global superpower, that China today is a major global financial and economic power. That it is no longer the US that rules this unipolar world, that it has a competitor.

But the Chinese are very modest, and they say they are not competing to be number one with the US.

Any rational, intelligent person who is informed about China – even if a leader emerged in China that would view Australia and the US with hostility – would, in his right mind, think that you can overpower the US economically and militarily.

AJ: What is the projected benefit economically for East Timor from the Greater Sunrise Gas Field?

Ramos-Horta: The existing studies point to it taking seven years for the whole project to be completed and deliver gas and revenue to Timor-Leste.

But long before that, the day we sign the agreement, within the following few months, two years, a lot of investments already start to happen. Because we have to build all the infrastructure on the south coast that will run into the tens of millions of dollars, hundreds of millions of dollars.

The pipeline will take its time to reach Timor, but the pipeline will be served by all the infrastructure built on the south coast, plus housing. Hundreds, maybe thousands of houses for workers, for people and so on. Then improvement in the agriculture sector. Farmers in the community benefitting because they will sell produce to the company, to the workers and so on.