Eastern European success is no happy accident

Like a pink-clad human piston, Dara stormed onto the Eurovision stage last month to give a rousing rendition of her Bulgarian pop song, Bangaranga, all flinging limbs and acrobatics and fur-topped, fingerless, leather-pink gloves. It was perfect Eurovision fodder – the title was in Jamaican patois and is translated as ‘a joyful kind of disorder’; the hit was inspired by the Bulgarian ritual, kukeri, in which men dress in fur, and wear wooden masks, to scare away evil spirits; but – with a backing track of drums, and club beats, the song was also gloriously fun. Europe felt the same – and gave Dara the trophy. In a competition overshadowed by politics, especially tensions over Israel’s participation, Bangaranga was a breath of fresh, frivolous air.

Yet the social media response to Bulgaria’s win has been considerably less positive. Though the song has been championed across Europe, its Bulgarian background has been the subject of intense stereotyping and humour. On Instagram, reels have depicted ‘leaked’ images from the 2027 contest, which are frequently set on a farm or in a dilapidated arena, with an audience of vodka drinkers, a described budget of around £50, poor-quality staging, and Borat in attendance. Despite releasing one of Europe’s summer hits, Bulgaria is still being cast as a backward nation, unworthy of Eurovision.

These images are not new. Since the Enlightenment, Eastern Europe has been described as a poor, ‘uncivilised’ counterpart to Western Europe – a place of backwardness, poverty, danger, and myth. As Larry Wolff writes in his Inventing Eastern Europe (1994), the pejorative understanding of the region arose as a result of thinkers in the 18th century who suggested a distinction between a more ‘civilised’ west and a barbaric east. Travellers in this period also described feeling as if they had left Europe when reaching Poland and Russia. Eastern Europe meant only destitution and disease, conflict and chaos. This continued into the 19th century – bolstered by the demise of Poland through political problems, especially the liberum veto, which allowed any noble to block laws, effectively causing the Polish parliament to come to a standstill. In the 20th century, after the First World War, these old tropes of the region’s ‘uncivilised’ nature and conflict fuelled criticisms of self-determination in Eastern Europe. The division between west and east later took on new form with the creation of the Iron Curtain after the Second World War, and the division between western nations and those under Soviet influence. What is alarming is that these tropes are continuing even almost 40 years after the end of the Cold War.

The response to Eurovision is not the only time in recent months that such images have been prevalent. When Poland was touted as potentially overtaking Switzerland as one of the world’s 20 largest economies earlier this year, headlines were crammed with facts about Poland under communism. When Eastern European countries’ fiscal success is compared to the west, negative images are still at play – they are posited as extremes, and in opposition, rather than as equals; Eastern European growth is miraculous; the region’s nations will always be marked by their communist, and deprived, associations. Little matter that this success – for example, in Poland’s case – is down to liberalisation, institutional infrastructure and modernisation.

In the west, Eastern Europe is frequently perceived this way – that success is not possible, and when it does happen, it is a happy accident, and not a result of the agency and skills of those from the region.

Bulgaria’s Eurovision prowess is partly an exception. Eurovision does have the effect of levelling out the playing field – mostly, each of the entered songs is praised by fans, especially in the stadium. While there are fewer wins from the region than in the west, many countries in Eastern Europe did not enter the contest until the 1990s or 2000s – Bulgaria first entered in 2005. And although Bulgarian budget jokes have abounded since the win last month, this is not to say financial issues for many participants are not present. Some smaller countries, including Montenegro, Moldova and North Macedonia, have previously withdrawn due to economic pressure. So, however, has Andorra. These countries have also expressed their eagerness and enthusiasm to rejoin the contest.

Bulgaria is yet to pick a city to host the Eurovision contest next year, but while the deputy prime minister has claimed it will cost the country between 20 and 30 million euros (rather than £50), it is estimated that the country will gain up to 70 million euros as a result of tourism and hospitality, as well as promoting Bulgaria on the European stage. Bulgarian politicians have also promised the contest in Bulgaria will be of the same standard as Austria’s this year. They should not need to make such promises. In fact, Bulgaria also hosted Junior Eurovision – the children’s version of the show – in 2015. Yet western criticism of the east remains. Prague, indeed, lies west of Vienna.

As a response to the online stereotypes, Bulgaria’s official Instagram account has also got in on the action, posting a clip from the extreme, and highly controversial film, I Spit on Your Grave 2, in which the protagonist finds herself in Bulgaria and starts to cry – with the caption: ‘Eurovision 2027 Intro Video Leaked’. Some of this irony, perhaps, might make it to the real Eurovision stage. But who will be laughing at whom?