In 2026 Cyprus, we seem to be producing more Eurovision than we can actually handle. How else can one explain the annual uproar? Year after year, the same outrage, the same arguments, the same attempt to elevate a televised EBU spectacle into something of existential importance. Eurovision has a specific tone and character. It did not suddenly acquire them this year. For at least the past decade, the contest has evolved in a way that makes it hard to understand why every May we still act shocked by the “acts” that appear on stage and, more often than not, win. As if we are seeing and hearing something entirely new.
Someone even declared that “this is how Anglo-Cypriots see Cyprus.” It never occurred to him that the music video might be deliberately provocative, intentionally intriguing, precisely so that we would be talking about it.
And since we have apparently solved all our other problems in Cyprus, we decided that in February 2026, somewhere between Annie Alexiou, Phedonas, the water crisis and #videogate, we would also dissect Eurovision in our own uniquely dramatic fashion. Some were offended because the otherwise stunning Antigoni supposedly uses Turkish words, turning “Jalla” into something that sounds like “Yalla.” It did not seem to matter whether the word is Arabic, nor that it is a word our people use constantly and our youth post daily on social media. Certain ELAM-style critics might prefer “tzialla” or “tzalla,” or perhaps the fully Hellenised “ki alla.” Once they heard the rhythm, they decided the song was “Oriental,” part of a grand conspiracy to bring the two communities closer together and ultimately “Turkify” us. Because apparently Eurovision without a dose of Cypriot nationalism does not exist.
Others were disturbed by the aesthetics and cultural tone of Antigoni’s entry. Add a little sauce about road safety, and the press release writes itself. Yes, it is taxpayers’ money. We understand that. But let us keep a sense of proportion. Did previous entries truly promote Cypriot culture and civilisation? We even managed to entangle the EU Presidency in the debate, as though we are torn between avant-garde pop and entries of the “it’s my mother’s fault” variety. And many of the otherwise respectable cultural figures now criticising the song are the same people who, quite rightly, defend freedom of expression and respect for artistic opinion at every opportunity.
But the absurdity does not stop there. There is also CyBC, which could simply have said the obvious: that each year it adapts its participation to the style of the contest, selecting an entry with competitive potential rather than one designed merely to preserve honour. Instead, we were treated to cultural lectures and Eurovision romanticism from its director general. “The Eurovision Song Contest managed to unite Europe after the Second World War and continues 70 years later to promote acceptance without discrimination through a celebration designed to honour diversity and build bridges between peoples and citizens,” Mr Tsokos wrote.
This is the same CyBC that spent an entire year displaying a logo marking 50 years of Turkish occupation, yet had no issue with Israel participating normally in the contest and even receiving votes. The same CyBC that knows everything about occupation when it comes to patriotic broadcasts and grand statements, but says nothing about the occupation of Palestine. The same CyBC that appears comfortable enough with occupiers and genocidal neighbours, since we are speaking of a contest that “promotes acceptance without discrimination.”
Meanwhile, I have been trying to remember Cyprus’s last three Eurovision entries. I cannot. I do not even remember last year’s. That is the point. Perhaps we should spend less time inflating trivial matters into major national debates and more time focusing on issues that actually deserve our attention.