The gap between the public and the jury isn’t a matter of bad judgment. It is a symptom of a deep crisis of representation.
Eurovision won’t change the Middle East, but it has revealed a simple truth: the gap between the public and the judges wasn’t a matter of musical taste – it exposed a crisis of representation.
Sometimes music says what politics dares not express. This was the case at the 2025 Eurovision grand final in Switzerland on Saturday night. Millions of Europeans voted, not for a politician but for a voice. A voice of truth, of pain, and of hope. It was the voice of Yuval Raphael, a 24-year-old Israeli survivor of the Nova Music Festival massacre on October 7, who stood alone on a Basel stage and sang a song of life.
The European public understood. They listened. They applauded. They voted. Israel received the highest number of audience points, 297, more than any other country. But that voice – brave, wounded, and clear – was muffled by the jury: only 60 points, placing her 15th in their ranking. Not indifference – near exclusion.
This was not a political performance, it was a rare human moment. Raphael didn’t come to represent a government, she came to represent a people. A traumatized people who chose to sing hope rather than vengeance. Her song, “New Day Will Rise,” performed in French, English, and Hebrew, included a powerful biblical phrase: “Many waters cannot quench love” (Song of Songs 8:7). That’s how her performance felt – a torrent of truth the audience couldn’t and wouldn’t dam. But the judges didn’t hear. Or perhaps – didn’t want to. They didn’t vote against Israel; they simply chose to ignore it. They chose indifference.
Rather than recalculating the score through an alternative method, Eurovision could draw inspiration from the world of international film festivals, where separate awards are granted by both the jury and the public. Why not honor both perspectives explicitly? A “Jury Prize” and an “Audience Award” would acknowledge that the professional lens and popular sentiment often diverge and that both have legitimacy. In 2025, Yuval Raphael would have stood as the clear winner of the public’s heart. That alone would have told a powerful story – not by altering the outcome, but by naming what the people saw and heard: a song that transcended politics and pierced the soul.
Yet despite everything, Raphael’s brilliant performance captured the hearts of Europeans at a time when Israeli artists face political boycotts and public threats. It was not just an achievement, it was a moment of moral, cultural, and human clarity, which is scarce in today’s Europe. Her second place rings of victory.
When Europe’s cultural elites look at Israel through political lenses, they become deaf to the truth that only music can reveal. They only see flags. And when those flags appear, the music is drowned out. The judges – journalists, musicians, cultural figures – know full well the risks of supporting Israel. They understand the pressure, the protests, the backlash on social media. They’re not ignorant, just afraid.
The public, in contrast, saw and heard. From Paris to Berlin, from London to Reykjavik – millions of Europeans voted not for a government, but for humanity, for courage, for spirit. They saw through the propaganda and found the truth.
This gap between the public and the jury isn’t a matter of bad judgment. It is a symptom of a deep crisis of representation. When cultural elites stop reflecting public sentiment, they lose their moral authority. Israel doesn’t ask for privilege, only for a fair chance. To be judged for the voice and the message, not the nationality. For the song, not the flag. For the artist, not the politics.
Eurovision won’t change the Middle East. But it did reveal a simple truth: the European street can distinguish truth from falsehood, courage from fear. The elites, in this case, chose to close their eyes. Now the responsibility lies with us – not to let that voice, raised bravely before hundreds of millions, disappear. Because even in a storm, “Many waters cannot quench love.”