Intense diplomatic activity in the chancelleries of Europe marked the spring of 1987. In Britain. the Conservative Government, though it had no particular revendications in Europe, was much preoccupied by the Irish and Turkish Questions.
The former was essentially an aspect of domestic politics. Mrs Thatcher had long before decided to go to the country on June 1lth and was most anxious that the campaign should take place in an atmosphere of calm and security. The Turkish Question, on the other hand, involved considerations of European, indeed world security; any attempt to destabilize the fragile Turkish regime would have incalculable consequences. In early April, London decided on a diplomatic initiative which was to have far-reaching consequences.
On April 9th, the Foreign Office cabled the British Embassy in Dublin and instructed Sir Charles Hawtree, the ambassador, to approach the Irish Government with a view to exploring mutually satisfactory arrangements. A meeting was arranged in which Sir Charles was able to expound the British point of view. London, he intimated, would be prepared to give Dublin a free hand in Europe in return for certain undertakings on the domestic front. On the other hand, it could not “stand idly by” if any attempt was made to humiliate Turkey. Roughly translated, this meant that Dublin could count upon maximum points from the British Jury at the Eurovision Song Contest to be held on May 9th in Brussels and that London would use its good offices to ensure an overall Irish Victory. In return, Dublin would guarantee Turkey the minimum number of points necessary to avoid outright humiliation.
The scene had thus been set for Brussels and the intervening weeks were largely taken up with putting the finishing touches to the various diplomatic initiatives. London contacted Paris and inquired whether the French could “see their way clear” to helping Ireland and if so, what sort of compensation they would require. Initially, Paris wanted assistance at the world-famous Cannes Film Festival which was to take place immediately after the Eurovision Song Contest. Could Britain “bring pressure to bear” to ensure that the Palme d’Or was awarded to a French film? London took the view that by bringing pressure to bear on members of the jury, it might give the unfortunate impression that it was in some way trying to influence them. With some reluctance Paris accepted the wisdom of the London line and its thoughts then turned to the Tour de France. Would the Irish Government be prepared to prevail upon Sean Kelly and Stephen Roche to adopt a “low profile” during the race? Dublin immediately let it be known that if, for political reasons, Paris required a home victory in La Grande Boucle, then it (Dublin) would not stand in the way. In an emotional telephone communication the Quai d’Orsay proclaimed that it would “never forget” this friendly gesture. Paris and Dublin were bound together in a “pact of steel”.
Dublin for its part, had undertaken to guarantee to supply Turkey with the minimum two points at Brussels. As May 9th approached, it was really all over bar the shouting.
What exactly went wrong?
To answer that question it is necessary to grasp the workings of the Eurovision song contest as they had come to apply by 1987. In the early days, the event had been a genuinely popular occasion but by the ‘eighties it had become a mere shadow of its former self. The contestants now consisted solely of “has-beens” or in racing parlance “never-wozzers”, and for several years the jury had been made up of high-ranking career diplomats - although of course the fiction of democratic voting was maintained. Once the diplomats took over there was no longer any need to listen to the songs and in recent years the juries had got into the habit of dining out and "partying" during the competition. In this way, they could concentrate on the voting. their minds uncluttered by idle preconceptions. In short, by l987 the Eurovision song contest had become an important diplomatic event and yet in a curious way it still enjoyed immense popular prestige, rather like the Boat Race. The contestants themselves, of course, were blissfully unaware that the winner had been decided before a single vote had been cast.
The Irish representative, a Mr Johnny Logan was to pour his heart and such talent as he
possessed into the rendering of his particular entry, not realizing that he needn’t have bothered.
As with so many tragedies, everything started calmly enough. The various juries spent the early
part of the evening dining in convivial surroundings and were in relaxed and expansive mood
when the time came to cast their votes. In theory, of course, they were not supposed to listen in to the scores preceding their own but the present view was that this was an unnecessary and trivial restriction. Her Majesty’s Government watched as the early results came through. It was true that Turkey was showing no form but this was no cause for alarm for London felt that anything more than the two or four points guaranteed by Dublin might encourage Ankara to adopt “strong-arm” tactics -a possibility which HMG was anxious to avoid at all costs.
The British turn came. As arranged, full marks were awarded to Ireland, by this time a clear leader.Things only started to go wrong when the compère, Mr or Mrs Viktor Lazla asked the Irish jury for their vote. There was no mention of Turkey. For a few seconds Europe was numbed in shocked disbelief. What on earth had gone wrong? Within seconds a distraught Sir Cecil Hardwicke, guest of honour of the Irish, was on the line to London. Fighting to keep his voice steady, he explained that there was no question of duplicity; it was simply that the Irish
jury had perhaps consumed more alcohol than was either prudent or necessary during dinner and had forgotten who they were supposed to be voting for. He added that it was only with the greatest difficulty that he had been able to prevent them from voting for themselves.
London kept calm; this was no time to indulge in recriminations; Sir Cecil and the Irish could be dealt with later but it was quite clear to the British jury, which included some of the finest brains in the country, that the immediate priority was for some sort of action. The idea of contacting Mr or Mrs Lazlo in Brussels was mooted but immediately abandoned; he or she was unversed in the ways of secret diplomacy and could not be expected to appreciate the gravity of the situation. No, there had to be another solution. Fate had decreed that the Irish vote occurred towards the end of proceedings so obviously time was of the essence. There could be no argument on that score.
Switzerland! That was the answer. The Swiss voted last and there was still just time to repair the damage and snatch victory - and two points for Turkey- from the jaws of defeat. Sir James Melville, a brilliant high-ranking diplomat of whom great things were expected took things in hand. He asked to be put in touch immediately with the Swiss jury. The next few seconds seemed to last an eternity. Then the voice of a man introducing himself as a Swiss International Telephone Operator filled the room. The Swiss jury, he informed London, was incommunicado for the duration of the voting. Did not Sir James understand the regulations? Sir James summoned all his considerable powers of persuasion but to no avail ; the man was intractable, the Swiss, he vouchsafed, set great store by secrecy.
Defeat was staring London in the face. Time had run out; not even the SAS could be asked to intervene at such short notice. There was just the very slim hope that Switzerland would, at the last gasp, contrive a few points for Turkey but, since the jury would be voting strictly on merit, London harboured few illusions. Sure enough the hapless Turks drew a blank once more and even as a delighted Mr Logan was performing a victory encore, angry crowds were gathering in the streets of Ankara and Istanbul. The first link had been forged in the chain of events that were lead to the outbreak of the Third World War.
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