Imagine the frantic energy in the broadcast control room. A producer, headset clamped tight, stares at a wall of monitors as a four-hour, multimillion-dollar international spectacle crumbles live on air. The hosts are mispronouncing the names of participating countries. The jury vote is delayed by a technical meltdown. Someone just wandered into the Saudi judge’s live shot. This wasn't just a series of unfortunate mistakes; it was the entire, flimsy premise of the Intervision Song Contest collapsing under the weight of its own political baggage. It was a trainwreck in slow motion.
The event was designed to be a grand statement. A declaration of cultural independence from the West, a vibrant showcase proving that Russia’s isolation was a myth. It was meant to be a new nexus of global culture, uniting nations from the BRICS bloc, the CIS, Latin America, and the Middle East. Instead, it became a bizarre, four-hour parody of the very thing it sought to replace: Eurovision. The forced smiles, the stilted praise, and the overwhelming sense of manufactured joy couldn't hide the truth. This wasn't a song contest. It was a desperate and clumsy piece of political theater, and everyone, from the performers to the handful of people watching, had a front-row seat to the flop.
Intervision's Grand Ambition Was A Political Mirage
Let's be brutally honest. The Intervision Song Contest was never about the music. Its entire existence was a reaction, a defiant gesture born from being expelled from Eurovision following the invasion of Ukraine. The ambition was to build a parallel cultural universe, one where Moscow, not Malmö, sets the trends. It failed spectacularly.
A Shadow of Eurovision
From the opening act, the ghost of Eurovision haunted the proceedings. The broadcast kicked off with performances from Russia’s only Eurovision winner, Dima Bilan, and its 2015 contestant, Polina Gagarina. This wasn't a bold new beginning; it was a nostalgic look back at a club they were no longer a part of. The structure, the voting, the effusive hosts speaking a medley of languages—it was a near-exact copy, a photocopy that came out blurry and faded.
I remember my first Eurovision party. The air thick with the smell of cheap prosecco and nationalistic fervor, all of it wrapped in a glorious, sequined blanket of camp. We'd cheer, we'd boo, we'd laugh at the absurdity. It was a shared language. Watching Intervision felt like trying to speak that language with someone who only had a phrasebook filled with government-approved slogans. The sounds were there, but the meaning, the soul, was gone. Eurovision, for all its faults, has a chaotic, authentic spirit. Intervision had a government mandate.
The Promise of a 'De-Politicized' Event
The official line was that Intervision would be a "de-politicized" celebration of culture. This claim is so audacious it borders on comedic. An event conceived for purely political reasons, broadcast on state television, and featuring a pre-recorded address from the President cannot be de-politicized. It is the definition of political.
The promise was an illusion. The organizers wanted the glitz and global appeal of an international music festival without any of the messy, unpredictable, and genuinely diverse elements that make such events meaningful. They wanted the spectacle without the substance. This fundamental contradiction—pretending to be about art while serving a rigid political agenda—was the foundational crack that ran through the entire production, ensuring its inevitable collapse.
Awkward Gaffes Plagued The Intervision Song Contest
If the strategic vision for the Intervision Song Contest was flawed, the execution was a masterclass in incompetence. For an event meant to project an image of strength and seamless organization to billions of potential viewers, the broadcast was riddled with embarrassing blunders that screamed amateur hour.
Technical Blunders and On-Air Mistakes
The list of gaffes is long and painful. It’s one thing to have a technical hiccup, but the sheer volume of mistakes suggested a deeper lack of preparation or professionalism.
Mispronunciations: The hosts, tasked with uniting a diverse group of nations, stumbled over the names "Kazakhstan" and "Kyrgyzstan." It was a small but telling error, betraying a superficial engagement with the very guests they were supposed to be honoring.
Voting Delays: The climax of any song contest is the voting. At Intervision, this moment was crippled by technical difficulties that delayed the jury vote, killing any momentum the show might have had.
On-Camera Intrusions: In a moment of pure farce, an unidentified person wandered directly into the frame while the Saudi judge was presenting his votes, shattering the professional veneer the broadcast was desperately trying to maintain.
These weren't just mistakes. They were symptoms of a rushed, hollow production. It was an event that looked impressive on paper—22 countries, a massive arena—but lacked the rigorous attention to detail required to pull off a live international broadcast. The cracks in the facade were impossible to ignore.
An Audience of None
Perhaps the most damning indictment of the Intervision Song Contest was the profound public indifference. The hosts spoke of billions of potential viewers, a grand coalition of global citizens tuning in. The reality was starkly different.
The official YouTube stream of the event, hours after the broadcast ended, had attracted a paltry 103,000 views. To put that in perspective, a single popular Eurovision performance can rack up tens of millions of views. This wasn't just a failure to compete with Eurovision; it was a failure to capture any meaningful audience at all. The grand party was thrown, the invitations were sent, but nobody came. The silence was deafening. The contest wasn't just a critical failure; it was a commercial and cultural irrelevance.
Heavy-Handed Propaganda Hijacked The Music
Any pretense of the Intervision Song Contest being a celebration of music evaporated the moment the Kremlin’s political machinery lumbered onto the stage. The event was less a concert and more a four-hour infomercial for "traditional values" and forced international friendship, with the music serving as little more than background noise.
The Kremlin's Unsubtle Stage Presence
The idea of a "de-politicized" contest became an open joke when President Vladimir Putin appeared in a pre-recorded address. Standing before two Russian flags in a sterile conference room, he spoke of cultural diversity and the right of nations to "develop freely"—a message drenched in irony given the contest's origins. He praised "traditional values," a well-worn Kremlin talking point.
As if that wasn't enough, the cameras then cut to Foreign Minister Sergei Lavrov in the arena, who praised the "beautiful" idea of the contest and emphasized the importance of inviting "BRICS countries and their partners." The message was clear: this is not an entertainment program. This is a geopolitical rally with a soundtrack. The music wasn't the point; it was the vehicle for the propaganda.
Performative Patriotism Over Artistic Merit
The contestants and hosts were often roped into moments of manufactured praise for the host nation that felt more like hostage videos than genuine cultural exchange.
Russia’s own representative, the pro-war pop star Shaman, theatrically asked the jury not to consider his performance for the top prize, declaring, “Russia has already won. We won because everyone is here as our guest.” It was a cloying, self-serving gesture masquerading as magnanimity.
Vietnam's contestant declared that a Moscow department store had the "best ice cream in the world."
Qatar’s contestant was presented with a balalaika, a traditional Russian instrument, in a moment of staged cultural appreciation.
An Uzbek artist spoke of how he had "fallen in love" with Red Square after his mother recalled visiting in 1979.
These weren't spontaneous expressions of joy. They were carefully curated soundbites designed to reinforce a narrative of Russian hospitality and global admiration. Every interaction was transactional, a performance of solidarity for the cameras.
The Curious Case of the Missing U.S. Contestant
In perhaps the most blatant political moment, the organizers announced that the U.S. contestant, Vassy, had withdrawn at the last minute. They didn't leave it there. They explicitly blamed her absence on "unprecedented political pressure from the Australian government" (the singer is Australian-born).
This was a naked attempt to frame the West as a cultural bully, trying to sabotage their peaceful gathering of nations. Without any evidence provided, it served as a convenient excuse for a no-show and a final, desperate jab at the contest's perceived enemies. The music was completely forgotten, replaced by a political conspiracy theory.
A Hollow Victory Marked An Empty Contest
After four hours of technical glitches, political speeches, and forced pleasantries, the Intervision Song Contest finally had to crown a winner. But in a competition where the outcome felt pre-determined and the artistic merit was secondary, the victory itself was an afterthought, a hollow gesture at the end of a hollow event.
A Winner Lost in the Noise
Duc Phuc of Vietnam was pronounced the winner. In a normal contest, this would be a moment of national pride and artistic triumph. Here, it was just... the end. His victory was overshadowed by everything that came before it: the gaffes, the propaganda, the sheer awkwardness of the enterprise. The winner of the Intervision Song Contest wasn't the best song, but whoever was willing to play the game most convincingly.
The announcement that next year’s show would be in Saudi Arabia felt less like an exciting continuation and more like a desperate attempt to prove this wasn't a one-off failure. It was a promise of a sequel to a movie nobody wanted to see in the first place.
The Saccharine Singalong Finale
The broadcast concluded with all 22 acts performing a joint number, a syrupy ballad reminiscent of "We Are the World" that was seemingly titled “A Million Voices.” The source material notes that it was "undoubtedly the most authentic-feeling moment of the evening." That is, frankly, the saddest praise imaginable.
For a moment to feel authentic only because it embraces a well-worn, saccharine cliché says everything about the inauthenticity of the preceding four hours. It was a predictable, safe, and emotionally manipulative ending to a show that took no risks, offered no genuine surprises, and ultimately said nothing new. It was a final, flat note in a deeply discordant performance.
Final Thoughts
The Intervision Song Contest was not a credible alternative to Eurovision. It was not a vibrant celebration of global culture. It was a Potemkin village with a pop soundtrack—an elaborate facade built to hide a deep-seated insecurity. It was a project born of political resentment, executed with embarrassing clumsiness, and smothered by the very propaganda it claimed to eschew.
The greatest irony is that in its desperate attempt to look strong and independent, the contest only managed to look weak and derivative. It failed to understand that cultural influence cannot be manufactured in a state-run broadcast. It must be earned through genuine creativity, authentic connection, and a willingness to embrace the messy, unpredictable, and yes, sometimes political, nature of art. Intervision had none of that. It was a hollow echo in an empty arena.
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FAQs
1. What was the purpose of the Intervision Song Contest? The stated purpose of the Intervision Song Contest was to be a "de-politicized" international music competition for countries in the BRICS, CIS, and other non-Western blocs. However, its true purpose was to serve as a Russian-led cultural and political alternative to the Eurovision Song Contest, from which Russia was banned.
2. Why did Russia create the Intervision Song Contest? Russia revived the Soviet-era Intervision brand as a direct response to being excluded from Eurovision following the 2022 invasion of Ukraine. The contest was intended to showcase Russia's international influence, project an image of cultural independence from the West, and strengthen ties with allied nations.
3. Who won the 2025 Intervision Song Contest? The winner of the 2025 contest was Duc Phuc, the representative from Vietnam.
4. Was the Intervision Song Contest successful? No, by most objective measures, the contest was not successful. The broadcast was plagued by technical problems and on-air gaffes. It was heavily criticized for its overt political propaganda, and it failed to attract a significant international audience, with its official YouTube stream garnering very low viewership.
5. How did Intervision compare to Eurovision? Intervision was structured as a near-copy of Eurovision but lacked its cultural resonance, production quality, and authentic spirit. While Eurovision is known for its campy, diverse, and sometimes political nature, Intervision came across as a rigid, state-controlled event where political messaging overshadowed the music.
6. Will there be another Intervision contest? At the end of the 2025 broadcast, the hosts announced that the next edition of the Intervision Song Contest would be held in Saudi Arabia, indicating an intention to make it an annual event.
