Ghada
Karmi is a Palestinian writer living in London, most recently the author
of In Search of Fatima, a memoir.
Can Jews and Arabs Use the Arts and Work Together For Peace?
Ghada Karmi
I
attended an unusual musical event here in London on August 22. As part
of the famous Promenade concerts season, which takes place each summer
in the English capital, last Fridays concert featured the West-Eastern
Divan orchestra. This is an 80-member group with an unusual cast: half
are Israelis and the other are Arabs. These are young people between
the ages of 15 and 25, brought together and trained by the world famous
Israeli pianist and conductor, Daniel Barenboim working in partnership
with Edward Said. They were making their first appearance on the London
concert stage to play a concert for peace. The programme
was classical and European: Mozart, Schubert and Beethoven. The Arab
members came from different Arab countries, including Jordan, Syria
and Egypt. Their names were withheld for sensitive, political
reasons; only the pianists, soloists in Mozarts concert
for three pianos, were revealed as Shai Wosner, an Israeli Jew and Saleem
Abboud-Ashkar, an Israeli Arab.
It appears that the West-Eastern Divan orchestra was set up five years
ago to use music to bring Arabs and Israelis closer together. The initiative
seems to have been the brainchild of Barenboim and Said, culminating
in the performance we heard that night. In a pre-concert talk, sadly
missing Edward Said, whom many of had gone to hear, Barenboim explained
something of the rationale behind creating the orchestra. He had no
illusions, he said, that his music peace campaign would solve the Middle
East problem. His young musicians did not bring their politics into
their playing, and the orchestra had become like a large family, whose
members frequently squabbled but always made up. This promoted his Scottish
chairman to gush, well, youre all Semites, arent you?
(Barenboim born in Argentina of Russian descent a Semite?) He spoke
with an engaging excitement about his work. Though creating Israel had
been a just and moral act, he insisted, its true cost to others had
to be recognised; there could be no military solution to the conflict,
and so the two sides would have to establish contact on a human level.
This, then, was the context for the initiative.
Watching the youthful players along with a packed audience at Londons
Royal Albert Hall that night, I felt strangely moved but also uneasy.
I wished Edward Said had been there so that I could express my unease
to him. They looked surprisingly alike, these Arabs and Jews, blond
and dark, playing their hearts out as Barenboim conducted them like
a proud parent. At the end, the audience stood to applaud them wildly,
entreating them to play two encores. In that enthusiasm could be detected
something more than musical appreciation I thought. People were applauding
the project, what looked like the reconciliation of enemies, forgiveness
and a future without conflict. Articles in praise of the concert appeared
in the British press, and two days later, a similarly enthusiastic audience
received the players in Morocco, the first Arab country to host them.
And therein lay my unease.
Though we were meant to think otherwise, was this concert and this orchestra
actually anything greater than the sum of its parts? That is, any more
than a group of well-meaning young musicians brought together by a well-meaning
conductor who had decided to overcome their differences and make friends?
And are not such people to be found everywhere, across the divide of
every conflict? Indeed, musicians have contributed to the peace effort
in many different settings: in Northern Ireland when the U2 band tried
to bring the two sides together in 1998; in Jamaica, where Bob Marleys
One Love concert in 1998 persuaded the prime minister and his opposition
leader to shake hands; in Belgrades 1999 non-political concert
for peace; in Sri Lanka, where the UB40 band celebrated peace
between Tamils and Singhalese in 2002; and so on.
As I pondered this, I could not get out of my head the image of the
five Israeli missiles that smashed into the car of Ismail Abu Shanab
in Gaza on the day before this concert, or of the Palestinian suicide
bomber who blew up a Jerusalem bus three days before; or the Israeli
naval commandos who murdered two Hamas activists in Nablus two weeks
ago; or of the Israeli army blowing up two activists from Islamic Jihad
and Hamas in Hebron last week; or indeed of the total degradation, subjugation
and starvation of a whole people, cooped up behind barriers and checkpoints,
their most elementary human rights traduced and their lives reduced
to a daily cycle of deprivation, humiliation and hardship. Thinking
this, I wondered what they would have made of the genteel concert that
purported to be helping the peace effort on that balmy summers
night we were all enjoying in the comfort and safety of London, faraway
from the horror and filth of their own lives. Might they even have thought
it was a betrayal of their struggle to consort, however innocently,
with their enemies?
This is not to detract from Barenboims achievement. While his
politics have not extended beyond the liberal Zionist position of a
pre-1967 Jewish state with a Palestinian state alongside it, he has
visited Ramallah, at much personal risk twice since the start of the
intifada to perform concerts there and train young Palestinian musicians.
His outspoken opposition to Israels current policy towards the
Palestinians has earned him few friends in Israel and there is no doubt
that he is committed and sincere. Nor is it to denigrate the achievement
of creating an Arab-Israeli orchestra in the current circumstances and
one that performs so admirably. Far better, surely, to create a peaceful
interaction between the two sides than stand by while they kill each
other.
Many might concur with this, but the issue in my view is not so straightforward.
For decades now, there have been two main schools of thought among Arabs
on how to deal with Israel. The first maintained that the correct way
was to isolate the Israelis, to deprive them of every form of recognition,
to make their lives as intolerable as possible, including by military
means. And the second said that Israelis thrive on eternal hostility
and so the proper way was to engage with them, make peace, open the
borders, welcome their citizens and address their insecurities. In this
way, they would mix with the Arabs and be subsumed in time into the
Arab world. A half-way position between these two held that there were
certain enlightened elements within Israeli and Jewish society to work
with and joint initiatives with such people could lead to an effective
political movement. It is the last two positions that have been dominant
amongst Arabs, encouraged by a minority of Jews and Israelis, since
the early 1980s. The formal peace treaties between Israel and two Arab
countries aside, scores of dialogue groups, cultural exchanges, collaborative
projects, political parties and personal friendships have sprung up
on the back of this thinking in the last ten years. If the West-Eastern
Divan orchestra is not a self-contained event then in my view it fits
into the last category.
A logical case can be made for each of the above positions, but none
has succeeded to date in reducing Israels expansionist aggression.
The fact is that none of them has been pursued with the necessary rigour,
persistence or unity of purpose. Once the military option was no longer
viable for Arabs, the alternatives, of working together with greater
or lesser enthusiasm, appeared promising. But the problem with this
approach is that it is upside down: it offers Israelis the rewards of
peace when there is no peace. Reconciliation and togetherness are consequences
of a settlement, not antecedents to it. The audience at the Prom was
celebrating something that has not happened yet and may not ever.
On the face of it, these activities also have the effect, however unintendedly,
of rehabilitating Israel, of making it acceptable just when the Western
world had begun to show disapproval of Israeli policies and reduce its
traditional support for the Jewish state. Despite the wealth and power
that Israelis enjoy, they always craved one thing: Arab legitimation
and acceptance without having to pay the price. What better than this
shortcut to the affections of those whom they have abused and dispossessed?
It is no wonder that so many liberal Zionists are engaged in good
works with Palestinians.
For, the most serious problem with the reconciliation approach is that
it fails to distinguish between Zionists and those against Zionism.
Joint struggle on the basis of a shared political ideology, even when
the partners originate from opposing camps, and working towards a common
goal is a time-honoured method of opposition. A collaboration between
like-minded Arabs and Jews, whether Israeli or not, in the struggle
against Zionism is the only acceptable basis for such an enterprise.
For those who understand the true nature of Zionism, all else is fantasy
and wishful thinking.
Ghada
Karmi, a physican as well as a research fellow on
Mideast
affairs, first published
this
essay in Arabic in Al-Hayat in August 2003. It appears here with her
permission.
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