What can I do for the world, and its problems and sufferings, as a classical musician? I’ve been reading many books in my quest. I just finished “Children of the Stone: The Power of Music in a Hard Land” by Sandy Tolan (https://www.amazon.com/Children-Stone-Power-Mu…/…/1608198138). It is a nonfiction about a Palestinian violist, Ramzi Hussein Aburedwan, and his mission to assert the Palestinian presence in the world with his music.
Ramzi’s photo as an eight-year-old throwing stones at an Israeli tank captured international attention. Later, he gets an opportunity to learn to play the viola. Although he also plays the buzuq and has a band of traditional Arabic music, his emphasis, as well as the book’s, is more on him as a violist and the founder of al Kamandjâti (“the violinist”) Association, which aims to bring classical music to impoverished Palestinian children, including those in the refugee camps. The reason behind the emphasis on classical music over the traditional Arabic music, is explained in various ways through the book, often in Ramzi’s own words. In a chapter entitled “Harmony,” the polyphony in Western classical music (unlike the homophonic Arabic music), and how it requires the players to listen to and understand each other, is used as a metaphor for Ramzi’s revelation to a new perspective, musical and otherwise. (P. 63) In the next chapter, Ramzi is quoted in his thoughts: “It would be unfair if I were enjoying this alone..As we say in Arabic, Paradise would mean nothing without people.” (P. 81-2) He is saying this as he resolves to bring classical music back to his home country during his studies abroad, but taken out of context, now I realize, it can also be interpreted as an echo of the earlier sentiment about harmonious co-existence. In another chapter, he is quoted for promoting his idea for music schools in Palestine to international audiences: “I want to show these children that there is something else beside war and occupation.” (P. 120) But the quote that struck me the most was him as an eighteen-year-old, when it had only been a year since he picked up the viola: “I want people to see that we Palestinians are capable. We are like everybody else in the world. We can do a lot. I hope one day I’l be a teacher and a professional viola player. I hope we’ll have a big orchestra and we’ll tour the world in the name of Palestine. I want to show the world that we are here, on the map.” (xxii) How many other non-Europeans, and other oppressed groups of musicians, like the female pianists, have said this throughout history? Is this not what the Japanese said after World War II? Is Western classical music “the” universal language? Is it a status symbol, or a touchstone of humanity?
By chronologically following Ramzi’s pursuit, readers get to learn about other musical organizations’ similar responses to the Israel-Palestine conflict. Apple Hill Center for Chamber Music’s “Playing for Peace” Society brings chamber music workshops to areas of the world with history of conflict, where they assign musicians to “play in small ensembles alongside musicians from conflicting communities.” (http://applehill.org/playing-for-peace/description-history/). Apple Hill introduced the viola, classical music, and the idea of its use for peaceful activism, to Ramzi. West-East Divan Orchestra, co-founded by Israeli Daniel Barenboim and Palestinian Edward Said, is an orchestra of Arabian and Israeli musicians. Although its media portrayal has largely been idealistic, this book focuses on Ramzi’s frustration with its leaders for not taking a stronger stands for Palestine.
The book ends on a happy note, with “a musical intifada” of Ramzi’s youth orchestra playing Mozart’s Symphony and Bizet’s Carmen at the military checkpoint at Qalandia. The players feel as though they are introducing joy to what has been a joyless place. The soldiers start to seem more human to the players – a few claim to have seen two soldiers dancing. They receive an enthusiastic applause. The conductor is asked by a reporter if the music can make a solution for peace between the nations, to which he answers “I don’t know if it can bring a solution but I think it can bring a lot of good things to people. It brings really great things to these kids here. And to be a part of that, I can’t ask for anything more, really. It’s amazing. To play here today – I feel so good.” Ramzi feels convinced that the “music they absorbed was their protection…they would use that music as shield and sword, toward the freedom of their people.” (P. 310-3)
I hate to find myself feeling cynical even after the book’s “happy” ending. I wish I could wholeheartedly promote classical music as a remedy to all of the world’s conflicts and issues. When I am battling my own struggles with its history of imperialism and misogyny, what can I still do, and make use of my skill set and experience, to serve?