
All opinions expressed in this article are those of the person quoted and do not necessarily represent the opinions of the other team members or ESC United as a whole.
This is the first in a two-part reflection on how accessibility has had a varied and complex history at the Eurovision Song Contest. This first article will focus on past wins and losses, and the second part will look to the future in Basel and beyond.
United by music… mostly
Eurovision has long been known as a beacon for acceptance of diversity. The contest was devised in 1956 as a way to reunite a post-war Europe through the universal language of song, and 70 years later, that message is just as meaningful today, as indicated by the contest’s slogan, “United by Music”. More than 160 million people gather in front of their televisions every May to celebrate cultures from across the continent (and Australia!). The artists themselves also represent a diverse cross-section of humanity, with performers as young as 11 in 1989, and as old as 95 in 2012. 83 languages and dialects have been heard and seen on the Eurovision stage, including ancient tongues, sign languages and modern glossolalic inventions. The LGBTIQA+ community is an enormous part of the fanbase, with the rainbow flag visible in almost every crowd shot during the live shows. This community has seen themselves represented through success after success, including victories by Dana International, Marija Šerifović, Loreen, Conchita Wurst, Duncan Laurence and this year’s winner, Nemo.
Disabilities have also been prominently represented on the Eurovision stage, from those with visible disability such as Monika Kuszyńska (Poland 2015) and Yulia Samoylova (Russia 2018), to those who have disclosed invisible disability like Bianca Nicholas (UK 2015) and Sheldon Riley (Australia 2022). In 2023, 26.8% of EU citizens over the age of 16 reported a severe or long-standing limitation in their usual activities due to health problems, according to Eurostat. For every artist who has disclosed their disability, there are likely countless others who also have a lived experience of disability, and the same can be said for fans of the contest.
So is Eurovision keeping up with access needs for fans and artists alike?
What’s it like on the ground?
Things have not always gone smoothly as far as accessibility goes at Eurovision. Not even the artists are safe – who could forget poor Monika having to sit at the bottom of the green room stairs during the flag parade in 2015?! The severity of these issues seems to fluctuate depending on venue choice and national broadcaster, but articles by Danie Tregonning and John Egan on ESC Insight specifically reference pervasive venue issues over the last decade including a lack of elevators, or worse, elevator access being intentionally switched off, and unclear instructions on how to find accessible seating. As I have only been to national finals personally, I have reached out to international members of OGAE, the official Eurovision fan club, to find out their experiences and insights.
“We are the winners” – what went well?
Nikke Allen, who has attended Eurovision live a whopping 19 times in both a fan and press capacity, says that since 2000, a number of contests have gotten it right. She notes that all editions of the contest in Sweden since then – two at Stockholm’s Avicii Arena in 2000 and 2016, and two at Malmö Arena in 2013 and 2024 – had easy access to the venue for her as a wheelchair user. Athens 2006 was a particular highlight, with flat access to the entirety of the Olympic Indoor Hall and plenty of options for accessible seating, and Baku’s custom-built Crystal Hall in 2012 not only had smooth and easy access, but also employed a slew of highly-trained volunteers, staff and security who were amicable, welcoming and knowledgeable.
Accessible tickets to most major events come with an additional ticket for a helper, partner or other close person to sit alongside an attendee with disability in the accessible area. Tregonning says that Liverpool Arena, the host of 2023’s contest, gave wheelchair users the option of transferring to an arena seat, and provided seats alongside these for helpers.
Sometimes the venue has shortcomings, but these are made up for by how staff plan ahead and respond. Allen notes that JESC 2017, held in Georgia’s Olympic Palace, had great accessibility to the shows but the press centre was only accessible by several flights of stairs. She reflects that staff “knew in advance I was a wheelchair user and had planned a strategy – several stage hands would carry me in the wheelchair up and down the flights of stairs! This worked very well, and never once was I made to feel a burden.”
“Loving you is a losing game” – where did things go wrong?
From those who offered their experience, it seems that for every win, there has been an accessibility failure. These issues can happen at all phases of contest planning, from venue choice and physical accommodations to staff training.
Penelope, a member of OGAE Australia, has been trying to attend Eurovision since the 90s, but has run into a number of issues. She notes that Malmö 2024 only had 10 accessible tickets allocated to the global OGAE organisation. For Basel 2025, OGAE has not been allocated any accessible, ambulant or seated tickets at all, so she has to try her luck in the regular ticket ballot in order to obtain appropriate seating.
Allen mentions that at Copenhagen 2014, held in the B&W Hallerne, the press centre in particular was unsafe. At one point, she slipped on a narrow ramp and fell off the side, only being saved from landing under her wheelchair by a number of bystanders. The arena itself had heavy swing doors that also damaged her wheelchair.
As above, sometimes it’s not the venue itself, but the logistics and staff that let people down. Helsinki Halli, which hosted the contest in 2007, only had accessible seating on the floor of the arena behind the standing crowd, meaning the stage was not visible, despite paying good money for accessible tickets. When Allen enquired, she was told that “there was disabled seating on the higher levels but that YLE (the Finnish national broadcaster) had taken the disabled seating over for their cameras”. Upon raising this issue with Finnish press, the organisers went out of their way to improve seating arrangements – but only for her.
“They didn’t do anything for the other disabled spectators, I saw the next evening. Lesson learned – complain politely, go on TV and you are treated better,” Allen says.
It is worth noting at this point that disability is not a monolith. Despite Allen’s positive experience, Tregonning, who uses a wheelchair and crutches to get around depending on the circumstance, says in her ESC Insight article that Malmo 2024 was unpleasant. Seat labels on tickets and staff instruction were vague or non-existent, making finding her way difficult. Once accessible bays were located, Tregonning says that many wheelchair uses were instructed to stay in or with their mobility aids, and many helpers were told that having their own seat was a fire hazard, and thus sat separated from their companions by a walkway.
It has already been mentioned above that OGAE have not been able to procure any tickets other than standing for the live shows in Basel. In Part 2, we’ll take a look at how Basel is planning to tackle accessibility, as well as how venues can improve for future contests.
An enormous thank you to everyone who contributed their incredibly valuable personal experience to this research – Danie Tregonning, John Egan, Nikke Allen, Penelope, and others who chose to remain anonymous. Please feel free to add your own experiences and continue the discussions in the comments, in our Discord server (or my DMs therein), and on social media @ESCUnited