As the tide of luck ebbs and flows, it becomes obvious how the geopolitical alignments are working. Justice, due credit, good taste, all go by the board as the harsh realities of states' self-interest at the very end of the 20th century manifest themselves.
Old ties of blood and belonging are a constant theme, but the importance of proximity, of walking the tightrope of international relations to keep both the neighbours and the Big Powers happy, are always underlined.
No, we're not talking about the G8 meeting, a conference of European Union ministers, or one of the many tortured and tortuous attempts to bring peace to the troubled planet. But then again, perhaps that latter description could be an apt one for the Eurovision Song Contest.
Run of success
And don't pretend you never watch it. In this month's issue of Magill magazine, Emily O'Reilly comments that no Irish citizen could fail to have some interest in the sensational tale of Sweetie and Terry. Likewise, one might ask, breathes there an Irish citizen with soul so dead that it is not stirred by some glowing ember of pride at the nation's stunning run of success in the 1990s? The very mention of the humble euro is enough to send RTE executives into a flat spin lest it be followed immediately by the suffix "vision".
But Eurovision is not to be watched merely to mock. It is to be studied as a template for the conduct of international relations, to take the temperature of the continent and to see what subtle and not so subtle messages are given out.
The German entry, for example, with the contest being held in the ancient Jewish capital, was bound to be sensitive, but with a sensitivity nobody would wish to discuss. In the last year of the millennium, with the abomination of the Holocaust again discussed, and the ongoing efforts to finally recompense materially those who lost their property and wealth, if not their lives, the issue lurks in all the millennial assessments.
What else could explain a German entry which consisted of a group who looked as if they came from Cyprus, and presented a song as far from bier keller anthems or the cool Deustchpop sound as one could imagine.
Balkan solidarity, a quality one sadly imagined to be oxymoronic, was demonstrated by the regional support for the Slovenian entry, For A Thou- sand Years (couldn't imagine the Germans singing a song called that). The song and the charming lady in yellow who sang it might have fitted nicely into a sub-plot of The King and I, Deborah Kerr version, but only regional solidarity could explain its high score in the contest.
Likewise, the mutual admiration between the Cypriot and Turkish entries, one suspected, had little to do with aesthetic integrity or acknowledgement of genius and musical innovation, but should be read as a sign that an unlikely breakthrough could be pending in Cyprus's seemingly insoluble stand-off.
British Empire
The fear and respect which the mighty British Empire once engendered lives on still, with few countries daring not to give obeisance by at least a five-point homage to the girl group who sang Say It Again. But sadly, the affection for gallant little Belgium which got Europe into so much trouble in the past was notably absent.
Israeli broadcasters certainly covered themselves with glory with this year's presentation of the geopolitical blandfest, despite the initial lack of synchronisation between sound and image. The half-time extravaganza featuring Dana International, last year's winner, was terrific, although I can quite understand the orthodox community being upset at one of their favourite ditties being used in this lavish bare-flesh way, as our man in Jerusalem David Horovitz told us.
The biblical cartoons between songs were terrific, despite Pat Kenny's apparent difficulty with some of them. Meanwhile Terry Wogan over on the BBC (or "Terry Woggin", as one of the Israeli presenters charmingly called him) seemed more au fait with the Bible stories and their transmogrifications into tourism plugs - or perhaps he had somebody do the homework for him.
Pat seemed particularly contemptuous of the Samson story with its cartoon muscleman coming up just before the song from Bosnia Herzegovina and its male co-singer, whose physique, as Pat remarked, had little relation to the drawing. Now, there's no need to be smug, just because Ireland is enjoying the sturdy nutritious diet made possible by the Celtic Tiger.
Machiavelli
So, friends, take not lightly the importance of the Eurovision song contest. If Machiavelli were around today he would watch it with keen interest. Why, I feel I detect a comment on this year's Swedish winner, Take Me to Your Heaven, in these words from the master realist: "Since men almost always tread the paths made by others, and proceed in their affairs by imitation , although they are not completely able to stay on the path of others, nor attain the skill of those they imitate, a prudent man should always enter those paths taken by great men and imitate those who have been most excellent, so that if one's own skill does not match theirs at least it will have the smell of it. . " (The Prince, Chapter VI).
Hmm. And even at Mass on Sunday, on the morning after we had read the Eurorunes, I found the Communion antiphon had us crying out "Abba!".