The Sound of Peace-making

Daniel Berenboim

http://enjoyment.independent.co.uk/music/interviews/story.jsp?story=470170

The sound of peace-making

[The conductor Daniel Barenboim has defied his critics to create a youth
orchestra whose musicians cross the Israeli-Palestinian divide. He’s not
playing politics, he tells James Rampton, but music is his contribution
to finding a solution to the conflict]

In August, as the intifada was raging in the Middle East and the
much-vaunted "road map" to peace appeared to be in tatters, thousands of
miles away, in the Royal Albert Hall, the pianists Saleem Abboud-Ashkar
and Shai Wosner were smiling, holding hands and taking a bow in front of
an ecstatic audience. In tandem with the conductor Daniel Barenboim,
they had just completed a triumphant performance of Mozart’s Concerto
for Three Pianos. The standing ovation at the end of the Prom lasted for
half an hour. It was a moment rich with symbolism: Abboud-Ashkar is
Palestinian; Wosner, Israeli.

This affecting image had its origins in a project begun four years ago.
At that time, Barenboim, the acclaimed Argentine-born, Israeli
conductor, teamed up with his old friend, the now deceased Palestinian
philosopher Edward Said, to bring to life a concept that sceptics on
both sides of the political divide derided as impossibly misguided: a
youth orchestra consisting equally of Jews and Arabs.

After trawling the Middle East for candidates and coming up with many
fine young musicians from both communities, they formed the West-Eastern
Divan Orchestra. (The rather unwieldy name is taken from a work written
by Goethe, which melds Islamic and European poetry.)

Many of the participants, who come from Israel, Palestine, Egypt,
Jordan, Syria and the Lebanon, had never even heard an orchestra live
before. Aged between 13 and 26, they now attend a summer school held on
neutral soil every year (near Seville this time round). They have played
concerts in the Palestinian territories and in front of the Moroccan
royal family. People have taken to calling them "the peace orchestra".

Barenboim has sons of his own - by his second wife, the pianist Elena
Bashkirova, whom he married after the death of his first, the British
cellist Jacqueline du Pre. One son is a violinist; the other is planning
to become a hip-hop artist. In the conductor’s public life, also, he is
passionate about passing on his musical knowledge to the next
generation. He possesses a visionary quality that is simply infectious.
So he particularly cherished the emotional curtain call at the end of
the Prom in August. For him, the orchestra is a metaphor for what could
be achieved in the Middle East.

Speaking to me at the end of a hard week of working at his "day job" as
musical director of the Berlin Staatsoper (he is also in charge of the
Chicago Symphony Orchestra), the 60-year-old maestro declares that an
orchestra is a symbol of democracy. "Music says everything about unity
and harmony. The musicians in the West-Eastern Divan Orchestra work
together toward a common goal. That in itself is a revolutionary
concept, considering where they come from."

He continues, saying that the orchestra, which is the subject of an
absorbing edition of ITV1’s The South Bank Show this Sunday, is "a
musical version of what I think about the Middle East, a vision I can
have of the Middle East where everyone is able to contribute and where
the whole is greater than the sum of its parts".

That’s all very well, but isn’t the entire idea absurdly idealistic?
Very possibly. And yet the players who have been to Barenboim’s
workshops attest to the unifying force of the music. Mina Zikri, an
Egyptian violinist, reckons that getting to know Israeli members of the
orchestra "humanises the other party. Images can be very misleading. The
suicide bomber brings to mind a certain image. So does the [Israeli]
military operation. But these must not be fixed in one’s brain."

Through the orchestra, he has befriended Israelis, including a
bassoonist called Ayelet Ballin. "Now, when I see her," Zikri carries
on, "I think: ’Here is my friend,’ not: ’Here is the Israeli person.’"

Yoni Etzion, an Israeli member of the orchestra, takes up the theme.
"Here we get to understand that life isn’t about territory and war. We
all have the same purpose - to make music - and that brings us
together." There is certainly no favouritism on Barenboim’s part. He
says that he loses his temper just as easily with musicians from both
sides of the divide, and that nobody takes it personally.

Its founders have always maintained that the West-Eastern Divan
Orchestra should not be regarded as a political exercise. Rather, it is
motivated by music. According to Said, who saw the orchestra as "one of
the most important things I have done in my life", it "is non-political
and has no ulterior motive. It doesn’t pretend to be building bridges.
But there it is, a paradigm of coherent and intelligent people living
together. It’s like a stone you throw in a pond. The ripple effect has
been extraordinary." So can the orchestra effect any political change?
"No," Barenboim states in unequivocal tones. "We’ve helped on a musical
level - many of our students now have major positions in Arab
orchestras. Forgive my immodesty, but I know that we have made them
better musicians."

And beyond that? "Maybe the work we have done will leave an aftertaste
about how we have to learn to live together," the conductor reflects.
"Many Israelis don’t see that. They see only the terrible effects of
suicide bombing and can’t see how our two destinies are inextricably
tied together. The workshops don’t provide answers, but they help to
fight ignorance and to give people some food for thought."

He thinks that the very existence of the orchestra is a sufficient
political stance. "Any kind of contact between the two sides can only be
positive, because anyone who wants to have contact is inevitably
preoccupied with the future," Barenboim contends. "From that point of
view, this is a non-political, [personal] project."

All the same, he acknowledges that the endeavour is freighted with
political significance. "It was never my intention, but there’s nothing
I can do about people putting a political interpretation on the
orchestra. When you do something unusual, you have to be prepared for
people to be vociferous, both for and against it.

"But for these kids to walk on stage at the Royal Albert Hall and see
the audience going mad for them is a wonderful thing. Where else will a
young Syrian musician have the benefit of such a sophisticated audience?
For me, it’s as a simple as that."

Melvyn Bragg, the presenter of The South Bank Show, agrees that the
orchestra should not be weighted down with excess political baggage. "I
don’t want to think about the orchestra in political terms. They never
say: ’This will make people behave better or love each other.’ People
from both sides are playing music together - that’s a powerful emotional
statement in itself. If you want to draw anything more from it, that’s
up to you.

"But what is great is that when the camera pans across the orchestra,
you can’t tell who’s Jewish and who’s Palestinian. You could have a bet
and still nobody would know. I think that’s exhilarating."

Even so, the orchestra has, almost inevitably, attracted censure.
Hardline Israelis have accused Barenboim of "naivety" for conducting the
orchestra and teaching in Palestinian towns, and many Arab governments
are equally suspicious of the endeavour. Bragg reveals that he had "real
difficulties" persuading some of the Arab players to appear on camera.

But Barenboim brushes off any criticism. "Extremists don’t worry me," he
says forcefully. "They just feed on each other. Contrary to the way it’s
been reported, I’ve had no criticism from the Israeli government. People
always want to stir up trouble and a few people on committees made
noises, but the government didn’t. The great majority of Israelis see
the point of this orchestra and are very happy about it. I’ve been to
Israel several times when Israelis have known I was in Ramallah the
night before - that’s wonderful. My close relationship with the Israeli
public has not suffered because of this." That said, Barenboim is no
stranger to controversy. Two years ago, his decision to end a long-held
ban and conduct a piece by Richard Wagner at the annual Israel Festival
in Jerusalem whipped up the most ferocious storm.

It is an emotive issue in the country. Wagner, a rabid anti-Semite, was
Adolf Hitler’s favourite composer, and for as long as the state of
Israel had existed, there had been an unwritten law that his music would
not be played there. When, in 1981, Zubin Mehta attempted to conduct the
Israeli Philharmonic Orchestra in a section of Wagner’s opera Tristan
und Isolde, the performance was halted by a Holocaust survivor. He leapt
on stage and showed the audience the scars he had received at the hands
of Nazi concentration camp guards. However, Barenboim was undaunted. He
resolved to break the rule when, a few days before the festival, he
heard a Wagnerian ring-tone on someone’s mobile during a news
conference.

"The telephone’s ring was ’The Ride of the Valkryries’ by Wagner," the
conductor recollects. "And I thought, ’If it can be heard on the ring of
a telephone, why can’t it be played in a concert hall?’" After he had
led the Berlin Staatskapelle through an excerpt from Tristan und Isolde,
an almighty row broke out. Ephraim Zuroff, the director of the Simon
Wiesenthal Centre, fumed that what Barenboim had done was the equivalent
of "cultural rape. That’s exactly what he did. He tried to seduce the
Israeli public. When the Israeli public refused, he raped us."
Meanwhile, Ehud Olmert, the mayor of Jerusalem, condemned Barenboim’s
conduct as "brazen, arrogant, uncivilised and insensitive".

In Barenboim’s defence, Bragg maintains that the conductor "is very much
of the opinion that you must not hold a prejudice against the work. I
agree with that 100 per cent. Wagner was a vile anti-Semite, but when
you listen to Tristan und Isolde, you think, ’what am I supposed to do
now?’ Barenboim is a man on a mission to say to his fellow Jews, whom he
dearly loves, ’we must move on.’"

The conductor asserts now that "the scandal didn’t hurt me. There were
3,000 people in the hall, and before conducting the Wagner I debated
with them from the podium for 45 minutes. I said: ’If anyone doesn’t
want to hear this, please leave now.’ Fifty people left, but those who
stayed gave us a standing ovation at the end. I’d have been hurt if
anyone had shouted obscenities at me, but that was not the case. The
scandal only happened the next day, and it was started by people who
were not even there. This was a concert for which you had to buy a
ticket. You don’t have to go, so why stop others? I don’t believe that
people suffer in Tel Aviv because they know that Wagner is being played
in Jerusalem. There is a crisis in Israeli society because we’re not
getting rid of certain taboos."

Hitting his rhetorical stride, Barenboim continues: "While we are so
proud to have become a nation, we haven’t really shed the old skin of
having been a minority for 2,000 years. Part of the problem is that when
the state of Israel was created, we instantly had to make the transition
from minority to nation. Just 19 years later, we found ourselves in
control of another minority. That transition has not taken place in the
minds of many Israelis. It requires deep inner change; you can’t treat
the Palestinians in the way that other people have treated you." He
gives a striking example. "If a Jew in the Warsaw Ghetto during the
Second World War had thrown a dried-up piece of bread at a Gestapo
commander, then that would be the sign of a fighting spirit and nothing
but positive. However, if a Jew threw the same dried-up piece of bread
at a Palestinian now, well, that’s a completely different story..."

Like Said, Barenboim believes that the West-Eastern Divan Orchestra "has
become the most important thing I do." During rehearsals, the conductor
is so fired up that he will leap into the violin section to demonstrate
exactly how vigorously he wants the strings to play. And it’s not just
during rehearsals that he is galvanised into action: after playing a
summer concert in Ramallah, where Yasser Arafat is based, the conductor
pledged to help with the development of classical music there. He has
installed two teachers, and is now attempting to put music on the
Palestinian school curriculum. He has also promised to establish a
Palestinian youth orchestra within five years.

A keen student of history and a strong advocate of the "two-state
solution", Barenboim believes he can make a contribution to the peace
process through his music. "Until the declaration of independence of the
state of Israel, everyone there was Palestinian," he reflects. "Then, on
15 May 1948, part of the population acquired a new identity - Israeli -
but the other part didn’t. After 50 years, you can’t say to the
Palestinians: ’Bad luck, it was your fault.’ Therefore, we have a
responsibility to the people who were displaced. As time goes by, the
very existence of Israel depends on a solution to the Palestinian
problem. No effort must be spared to find a solution for the
Palestinians because it’s the solution for the Israelis, too. Unless one
is found, there will be a global catastrophe. I have no political
ambitions, but I feel very strongly about this. So whatever I have
achieved in life I want to pass on, and the first place I want to pass
it on is with the orchestra."

Expanding on the idea that the destinies of Israel and Palestine are
interlinked, Barenboim suggests: "The fact that the two peoples have a
different narrative makes it difficult for outsiders to see why they’re
so connected." In the West-Eastern Divan Orchestra, he has observed that
his players are all "temperamentally very similar. This may be one of
the cruxes of this conflict. You’re not talking here about Puerto Ricans
and Norwegians. You’re talking about people who I won’t say have the
same blood, but who certainly have the same temperature of blood.
They’re all hot-blooded. Their reaction to the music is all the same."

Barenboim genuinely sympathises with the Palestinians, and is always
welcomed by them with open arms. According to the conductor, "People in
Palestine are very happy when I go there. I don’t go with a political
mission. I go because I want to show that I feel for them and that I
feel it’s necessary to find a solution to their problems. That’s why
they accept me."

There is a wider message here that professional politicians in the
Middle East might do well to heed. "The most important thing is to give
these people not just culture, but self-respect and dignity," Barenboim
argues. "They get that in the West-Eastern Divan Orchestra; nobody is
closer to the music just because he is Jewish or Muslim or Christian.

"That’s what is lacking in relationships between Israelis and
Palestinians, and that’s why this project is so important. Before you
can reach an agreement, you have to stand on an equal footing." The
maestro pauses, before reaching a crescendo. "In music, we are all
equal."