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| Barenboim conducting the West-East Divan at the Proms |
With the Olympics finally getting under way
tomorrow night, it’s Barenboim conducting his West-Eastern Divan orchestra in
Beethoven’s 9th Symphony at the Proms I’m interested in, more than
the hype and razzmatazz in the Olympic stadium.
I first heard of this orchestra ten years
ago, when I picked up a newly published book called Parallels
and Paradoxes,* which had caught my eye in a bookshop in Perth, W.
Australia. I read it almost at a sitting, on the banks of the Swan River, and
have never forgotten the impact it made. The book is a series of conversations
between the Israeli-born musician Daniel
Barenboim and the Palestine-born critic and cultural commentator, Edward
Said. Out of their friendship and the dialogue that flowed from it,
Barenboim’s band was born.
When Said died, in September 2003, a radical Palestinian website
published an obituary written by Barenboim:
Perhaps the first thing one remembers about
Edward Said was his breadth of interest. He was not only at home in music,
literature, philosophy, or the understanding of politics, but also he was one
of those rare people who saw the connections and the parallels between
different disciplines, because he had an unusual understanding of the human
spirit, and of the human being, and he recognized that parallels and paradoxes
are not contradictions.
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| Edward Said 1935-2003 |
Here Barenboim points at once to the central
theme of their recently published book: that opposites can be reconciled, that
people with different histories can be brought to understand and recognize each
other:
Edward
Said [EWS]: I
don’t think it necessary that everyone should agree, as long as there’s a
mutual acknowledgement that a different view exists. That’s the important
thing. We must have respect for each other’s views and tolerate each other’s
histories.
It was in this spirit that in 1999 Barenboim
and Said together had founded the West-Eastern Divan Workshop, a forum for
young Israeli and Arab musicians to learn about music and about each other. The
name comes from Goethe’s celebrated collection of translations from Arabic poetry,
Westöstlicher
Diwan. Seeing the other side of an argument, indeed understanding the
idea of the Other, is central to Said’s legacy, and in Parallels and Paradoxes, he and Barenboim argue about the apparent
contradictions that surround their lives. By the end, they have resolved many
of these through a shared world view (which Said describes as ‘secular
humanism’) and a passionate commitment to the importance of human creativity,
specifically in music and literature.
Parallels
and Paradoxes is
an important and rewarding book about the relationship between the arts and
history, education and politics. It is also a record of a remarkable friendship.
Because the conversations are transcribed with a minimum of editing or tidying
the reader gets caught up to an unusual degree in the debates between two
unlikely friends – the intuitive artist and the intellectual critic -
throughout the six chapters of this book. These chapters discuss topics as
broad as the Middle-East Peace Process and as specific as how an orchestral
conductor interprets Beethoven’s one-word instruction ‘Crescendo’.
Barenboim asks, what is the difference
between a politician and an artist? He argues that ‘a politician can only work
and do good if he masters the art of compromise … whereas the artist’s
expression is only determined by his total refusal to compromise in anything –
the element of courage.’ Said agrees with him when he concludes that the
Middle-East conflict will ‘not be solved only through political means, through
economical means, or through arrangements. It requires the courage of everybody
to use, as it were, artistic solutions.’ With the founding of the West-Eastern
Divan Workshop conductor and critic practised what they preached.
The Divan began as an artistic,
political and educational experiment, and it is revealing to compare Barenboim
and Said defining education:
DB: Education means preparing
children for adult life; teaching them how to behave and what kind of
individuals they want to be. Everything else is information and can be learned
in a very simple way.
EWS: The purpose of education is not
to accumulate facts or memorize the ‘correct’ answer, but rather to learn to
think critically for oneself …. As a
teacher, the thing I feel I can do the best is to have my students …declare
their independence from me and go off on their own way.
However, it is their discussions
about artistic creation and the parallels and paradoxes surrounding music and
literature that really animate this book. For Said, ‘There’s no real equivalent
of the performer in literature. Authors can read in public, but the logical aim
of what we do is to produce silence – silent readings.’ Barenboim, by contrast,
sees music as a way of defying silence and prolonging sound:
I see music, in many ways, as a defiance of
physical laws – one of them is the relation to silence. The main difference
between a Beethoven symphony and the sonnets of Shakespeare is that, although
the words, as written in the book, are a notation of Shakespeare’s thoughts – in
the same way that the score is nothing but a notation of what Beethoven
imagined – the difference is that the thoughts existed in Shakespeare’s mind
and in the reader’s mind. But in the Beethoven symphonies, there is the added
element of actually bringing these sounds into the world: in other words, the
sounds of the Fifth Symphony do not exist in the score.
As a teacher Barenboim believes the ‘most
important thing is to explain to people what sound does. Why is it that there
is an emotive quality to sound?’ He
argues that ‘You have to understand, first of all, the physicality of how the
sound of Beethoven’s Fifth really operates.’
Said draws a parallel with poetry: ‘If one considers poetry as requiring
a particular kind of language, then it’s figured language, not ordinary prose.’
It will surprise some readers to discover that Said starts with a thoroughly
formalist attitude: he describes ‘the poetic object’ as ‘a whole series of
relationships, internal to the poem, which you need to understand before you
can, if you will, “read it”’. He argues that the best kind of interpretation is
‘ to regard the text as the result of a series of decisions made by the
composer, writer, or the poet, the result of which we get. And therefore, to
read it, one must try to understand the process by which these notes or these
words have gained a presence on the paper.’ The context of writing, for Said,
is all-important:
When I am writing and lecturing about the
works of the past, my main interest is to try to explain them and present them,
as much as possible, as creations of their time … you read the texts in a
historical context and understand the discipline of the language and its forms
and its discourses.
This is the philological method underpinning
all Said’s criticism, but his view of critical interpretation is neither purely
formalist nor historicist:
What I think is also extremely important is
to understand the interpreter’s role not just in the context of the original
composer or poet but also of the performer and interpreter in the present …
The interpretive process, Said concludes, is
‘a dynamic one, which always requires a great deal of rational examination and
isn’t a matter to be determined simply by feeling.’ Barenboim agrees, but only up to a point:
‘It’s not ethical’, he reminds his friend, ‘to make a crescendo only with your brain; your whole body has to be
involved’.
So, listen to Barenboim conducting
Beethoven’s 9th at the Proms; better still, watch him. You’ll see
what he means.
Adrian
Barlow
*Parallels
and Paradoxes: Explorations in Music and Society, by Daniel Barenboim and Edward W. Said. (Bloomsbury, 2002)
