Bridging Cultures Through Music: Insights from Edward Said and Daniel Barenboim

  What happens when young musicians from warring regions set aside their differences to play Beethoven? In 1999, a workshop in Weimar, Germa...

 

What happens when young musicians from warring regions set aside their differences to play Beethoven? In 1999, a workshop in Weimar, Germany, brought together about 70 or 80 talented youth from Arab countries like Syria, Jordan, and Egypt, along with Israelis, including Palestinians from Israel. This event, the West-Eastern Divan Workshop, grew from an idea Daniel Barenboim shared with Edward Said to ease tensions in the Palestine-Israel conflict. Through music, personal histories faded, revealing a powerful unity. Their conversation uncovers how music transcends borders, challenges identities, and sparks real change. You'll see why this project still inspires hope for peace today.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HWQCy6_TU3A

The Workshop's Spark: Unity in Rehearsal

The workshop kicked off with a rehearsal of Beethoven's Seventh Symphony. Barenboim walked in and saw something remarkable. These young people came from diverse spots: middle-class families in some cases, working-class in others. Some spoke Arabic, others followed Christian or Muslim faiths. They hailed from Syria, Jordan, Egypt, and Israel, carrying the weight of complicated lives.

Yet, as they played, those details vanished. Personal identities and histories became irrelevant. The music took over, binding them in the moment. Barenboim noted how this differed from his lectures, where he sees the audience as a group at first, then individuals over time. In conducting, the focus stays on the collective response.

Participants included:

• Musicians from Arab countries: Syria, Jordan, Egypt, and Palestinians.
• Israelis: Both Jewish and Arab Israelis, like those from Nazareth.

This mix created a space where backgrounds did not matter. The orchestra became one living entity, focused on the notes before them.

Viewing the Orchestra as a Single Force

Barenboim rejects seeing an orchestra as separate sections, like first violins or clarinets. He compares it to a pianist's hands: two parts that form one unit. The whole orchestra acts as a blend, or even 100 individuals united in purpose. Every musician should grasp the full score, not just their line.

This setup contrasts with teaching a lecture. There, the speaker sparks ideas, and listeners react, agree, or disagree on their own. In music, the orchestra creates the sound. They respond directly to the conductor's cues. A skilled leader can shape a professional group, but true music making comes from the players' input.

Barenboim stresses concentration on musical elements alone. He avoids vivid images, like landscapes or running horses, except as rare examples. Instead, guide with basics:

1. Short and long notes.
2. Soft and loud volumes.
3. Sustained tones.

These keep everyone tuned to the sound. Backgrounds stay irrelevant, as the music demands total focus. In that unity, something magical emerges.

Music's Unique Language and Paradoxes

Said compares music to language, but without fixed meanings. In a class on a poem or novel, words like "glass" or "lamp" carry clear ideas. Students draw from their lives: "This reminds me of home" or "I hate that character." Their backgrounds shape everything.

Music stirs deep emotions, yet it avoids the personal in that direct way. It feels intimate, but it's not truly about individual stories. This creates a paradox. Everything in music holds tension, from its structure to its effect.

Barenboim agrees. Music reflects our reactions, not some inherent truth. It holds emotional, rational, mathematical, and philosophical layers. But those qualities say more about us than the notes themselves. Proof lies in mood: a joyful listener hears uplift in a piece; a sad one finds sorrow in the same bars.

For example:

• In a happy state, the music boosts that feeling.
• During grief, it deepens the ache.

This flexibility unsettles thinkers like Nietzsche or Plato. Music refuses to stay pinned down. It moves, stimulates, and pulls you in.

The Ecstatic Pull and Return to Reality

Take Wagner's Tristan. By the end, listeners feel transported, in a state of ecstasy that echoes the word's root: standing outside yourself. The Greeks, including Plato, saw music's healing side, like medicine. Yet it risks shaking reason loose.

Barenboim ponders musicians' lives. They dive deep into works that lift them out of daily routines. Coming back to the "real world" must feel jarring. This split can separate musical skill from everyday smarts or kindness. Some players excel at notes but struggle elsewhere. It does not have to link, though it often does.

Plato warned of these disturbing qualities, even as he praised music's powers. The back-and-forth immersion tests the spirit.

Hanging on Sound: Life, Death, and Intensity

Barenboim describes a unique sensation in performance. You produce the first sound, yet it pulls you along, like hanging from it. The music carries you through time, then fades to silence, a kind of death. Good music repeats this cycle of many small ends.

You cannot feel this as a listener with ears alone; silence just returns. But for players, it marks music's edge over life. Pieces start from nothing, build intensity, and end in quiet. This holds for grand Tristan, Boulez's complex scores, or Chopin's miniatures.

The contrasts define it:

• Birth from silence.
• Intense flow that daily life cannot match.

Said sees tragedy here too. Sound suspends silence, but return looms. Time flows one way, like in poetry. Performances happen once; rehearsals allow tweaks, but the real event vanishes.

The Loss After the Moment

Recordings try to capture it, but something always slips away. Said feels a pang at the end of intense listening or playing. The workshop built over two weeks to one concert, then nothing. That lassitude and loss hits hard.

Barenboim sees renewal in starting fresh. It takes courage to wipe the slate clean. Playing Beethoven's Seventh again with the same group would differ each time. No repetition feels stale; each run brings new life. This keeps the work bearable, even joyful.

Paradoxes That Define Understanding

Said loves paradoxes. Things reveal themselves through opposites. In sonata form, masculine and feminine themes clash and blend, each growing from contact. Music offers escape from self and world, yet sharpens insight into both.

As a performer, Barenboim finds no better path to clarity. You lose yourself in the notes, but gain deeper views. Embrace these tensions; they enrich everything.

Navigating Cultural Roots and Western Training

These young Arabs trained in Western classics like Beethoven and Mozart. Yet their world pulses with local sounds: folk tunes, popular songs on radio, TV, and internet. No one forces exclusion. They switch fully when needed, but roots linger in an unresolved tension.

Is this a loss of identity? Or just skill building? Barenboim watched closely. Some played with native ease, like thinking in the music. Others seemed to translate subconsciously from their heritage. Still, sound's pull gripped them all, leading to full commitment.

He praised their talent as a best-kept secret. Governments overlook it, a real waste. The workshop scratched the surface; more hidden gems wait in Cairo or Damascus. Next time, scouts should visit to find them.

Standards varied by person, not nation. Strong Israelis matched top Arabs; weaker ones crossed lines too. No group edge stood out.

Dreams Blocked by Limited Opportunities

In Israel, young players once eyed careers abroad, but home options grow. For Arabs, Western music feels like a luxury. Egypt offers opera houses and symphonies, a base for some. Smaller nations like Syria lack steady spots.

Music thrives in folk forms, wildly popular. But classical paths lead out. All top talents dream of Europe or America, even mid-tier groups. Not just peaks like the Chicago Symphony or Vienna Philharmonic.

This drains the region. Number the barriers:

1. Few home orchestras or audiences.
2. No path to sustain careers locally.
3. Talent flees, a quiet tragedy.

They aim to leave for good, seeking standards their lands cannot match yet.

Building a Shared Musical Future

Barenboim and Said agree: a top Middle Eastern orchestra could change this. The workshop proved equal skill across divides. Real coexistence means high-level playing at home, so no one chases Berlin or London out of need.

This goes beyond treaties on paper, like Egypt's or Jordan's cold peace. Music demands audiences and institutions. If built, it binds Syrians, Egyptians, Palestinians, Jordanians, and Israelis. The talent exists; nurture it.

Shattering Stereotypes Through Shared Notes

Bureaucracies slowed the workshop, but lower officials saw the chance. Music dodges politics. No declarations of peace; just concerts. Syrians saw Israelis as fellow players, not threats. Borders blurred in the hall.

Lives shifted for all: conductors, soloists, orchestra members. They view music and others anew. Music acts subversive yet harmless. Governments sent players, even funded Syrians, thinking little harm. But these youth return changed.

From middle-class families, often sacrificing for lessons on violin or oboe. Not all wealthy; many hardworking, like Palestinian kids. They will reshape views on Israelis and fellow Arabs. Egyptians rarely mix with Syrians culturally now. This stirs it up.

Watch the second part of the conversation for more depth: Watch the second part of the conversation.

Surprising Bonds and Lessons Learned

Dynamics surprised even veterans. Israeli Palestinians spoke Hebrew alone at first, then freely in groups. English bridged, but Hebrew eased talk. They get more Hebrew school than Arabic sometimes, tying them to Israel yet distant from Arab kin.

One Israeli Palestinian prized meeting Jordanians and Egyptians over Israelis. University life connected him there, but not across borders. Clichés crumbled: no more "dumb Arabs" jokes in Israel, or reverse biases.

An Egyptian violinist admired Barenboim's humility. In his society, lesser figures bully with titles. Here, a world star stayed grounded. An Israeli composer marveled too: Barenboim conducted without score, a shock. None matched him, sparking awe and a bit of envy.

These moments broke walls. Admiration for an Egyptian oboist in Beethoven stunned Israelis. No one linked Egyptians to such skill before.

A Lasting Echo of Change

Barenboim, from the "Orient," felt duty-bound to disorient them all. The workshop healed divides without forcing it. No melting pot; just shared goals in music.

In the end, this talk shows music's quiet power. It unites without words, challenges without fights. Young players left with open eyes, ready to bridge gaps back home. Their stories remind us: talent ignores borders. What if more projects like this spread? Start by listening to their sound.

Thanks for reading this deep dive. Share your thoughts on music's role in peace below, or check out the West-Eastern Divan Orchestra's work today.