For decades, the Eurovision Song Contest has served as a glittering, neon-lit mirror of European identity. But for some, that mirror has recently begun to reflect less of a musical competition and more of a curated exercise in moral signaling. In a sharp critique published by De Telegraaf, columnist Rob Hoogland suggests that the modern contest has succumbed to the “deugers”—the virtue signalers—transforming a lighthearted celebration of song into a rigid battlefield of political correctness.
Hoogland’s argument hinges on a nostalgic, almost chaotic trip back to 1969, a year that stands in stark contrast to the highly managed, sensitivity-checked productions of the 21st century. By revisiting one of the most anomalous moments in the contest’s history, Hoogland posits that the joy of Eurovision once resided in its unpredictability and its refusal to be a vehicle for social engineering.
The tension Hoogland describes is not merely about music; it is about the perceived shift in European cultural values. Where the contest once prioritized the spectacle and the song, critics argue it now prioritizes the “correct” message, often rewarding entries based on their alignment with contemporary social agendas rather than their melodic merit. This friction reflects a broader continental divide between traditionalists and a new guard of cultural arbiters.
The Chaos of 1969: A Lesson in Simplicity
To illustrate his point, Hoogland points toward the 1969 contest held in Madrid, an event that remains a legendary curiosity in Eurovision lore. In a stunning statistical fluke, four countries—Spain, the United Kingdom, the Netherlands, and France—all finished with 18 points. In the modern era, such a deadlock would trigger a flurry of tie-break rules, frantic committee meetings, and perhaps a social media firestorm regarding the fairness of the outcome.
In 1969, however, there were no tie-break rules. The result was simple, if absurd: all four nations were declared winners. The lack of a rigid framework did not spark a crisis of legitimacy; instead, it added to the folklore of the event. Hoogland uses this anecdote to highlight a lost era of innocence, where the contest was allowed to be imperfect, unplanned, and fundamentally unconcerned with the “correctness” of the proceedings.
| Country | Artist | Points | Result |
|---|---|---|---|
| Spain | Salomé | 18 | Co-Winner |
| United Kingdom | Lulu | 18 | Co-Winner |
| Netherlands | Louis & Nora | 18 | Co-Winner |
| France | Frida Boccara | 18 | Co-Winner |
The Rise of the ‘Deugers’
The term “deuger”—translated roughly as “virtue signaler”—has become a potent weapon in Dutch political discourse. It describes individuals who publicly express opinions intended to demonstrate their own good character or moral correctness, often regardless of the actual impact or necessity of the statement. Hoogland argues that this spirit has infiltrated the European Broadcasting Union (EBU) and the voting patterns of the modern contest.
According to the critique, the contest has moved away from being a “song” festival and toward being a “statement” festival. The stakeholders in this shift include not only the artists and the EBU but also a global audience that increasingly views the event through a geopolitical and ideological lens. When the “correct” narrative is prioritized over the musical composition, Hoogland suggests the event loses its universal appeal and becomes a closed loop of self-congratulation for the morally enlightened.
From Melodies to Manifestos
The evolution of Eurovision has mirrored the broader societal shift toward identity politics. While the contest has always had a political undercurrent—given that it involves sovereign nations competing on a global stage—the nature of that politics has changed. In previous decades, political voting was often based on bilateral alliances or regional blocs. Today, critics argue it is increasingly based on “virtue,” where entries that champion specific social causes or identities receive a boost in popularity regardless of their musical quality.
This transition creates a paradox for the EBU. On one hand, the contest strives to be an inclusive, diverse celebration of all people. On the other, the perceived imposition of a specific moral orthodoxy can alienate traditional viewers who see the event as a sanctuary from the polarized nature of daily news. Hoogland’s plea is for a return to the spirit of 1969: a time when the contest was allowed to be a bit messy, a bit silly, and entirely focused on the entertainment value of the performance.
The impact of this shift is felt most acutely in the voting results, where “strategic” voting now often aligns with ideological trends. For the artists, this creates a pressure to incorporate social commentary into their acts to garner points, potentially stifling raw musical creativity in favor of a curated image of progressivism.
As the European Broadcasting Union prepares for future iterations of the contest, the debate over the balance between art and activism continues. The next major checkpoint for the contest’s direction will be the unveiling of the rule changes and selection criteria for the upcoming season, which may address how the EBU intends to manage the intersection of political expression and musical competition.
We invite our readers to share their perspectives: Has Eurovision lost its musical soul to political correctness, or is the evolution of the contest a necessary reflection of a changing Europe? Join the conversation in the comments below.
