Classical music is not isolated from politics. The Melbourne Symphony Orchestra should know that

Pianist Jayson Gillham. Provided by Rémi Chauvin

This morning, the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra (MSO) announced that it was an error to cancel a scheduled performance of a concerto by British-Australian pianist Jayson Gillham.

This decision, and the problems that preceded it, raise the question of what the relationship is between classical music and politics – or rather what the relationship should be. For many, the two fields simply should not mix. But it would be naive to believe that classical music – or any other art – is entirely independent of politics.

A musical controversy

The furore began on Sunday, when Gillham gave a solo piano recital for the MSO that included the world premiere of a short piece by composer Conor D’Netto, Witness.

Netto’s website states that Witness is “dedicated to Gaza journalists.” During his performance, Gillham elaborated on this dedication by drawing attention to the more than 100 Palestinian journalists killed in the current conflict.

Gillham’s performance, however, appears to have prompted complaints to the orchestra’s management. The OSM responded by informing subscribers that Gillham’s performance tonight, August 15, would be cancelled.

The email said Gillham’s remarks were made “without seeking approval or sanction from the MSO” and constituted “an intrusion of personal political views into what should have been a morning devoted to a programme of solo piano works.”

But if the OSM was seeking to distance itself from the perception of a partisan position on the Israeli-Gaza conflict, or to assert the right of classical music to be seen as above politics in general, it has completely failed to do so.

To some, she not only appeared to take sides in this conflict, but she also sought to silence the voice of a musician she employed.

In a way, one can understand how the OSM could find itself in this difficult situation. The repertoire it performs and promotes is generally not explicitly linked to contemporary external events. In any case, music cannot present us with political ideas in the more direct way that art forms such as sculpture, painting or poetry do.

Classical music, in particular, seems to invite us to put politics aside when we listen to it. We are instead led to contemplate more elusive or lofty qualities or ideas, such as formal beauty, objectivity, nobility, or gravity.

It is precisely for this reason that classical music can still serve political purposes – even (or perhaps especially) when we think it does not.

The politics of apolitics

Ludwig van Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9, premiered in 1824, may well have been composed partly in response to the repressive political climate of post-Napoleonic Vienna.

It was quickly received as a hymn to our common humanity. But that did not prevent it from being co-opted by violent political regimes like Hitler’s Germany or Mao’s China – as well as by political movements opposed to them.

And today, the theme of the symphony’s Ode to Joy is the official anthem of the European Union.

The diversity of causes with which this music is associated does not mean that the work itself should not have political significance. On the contrary, this significance lies precisely in its ability to convey a notion of universal human value to the particular cause with which it is associated.

It remains a political work, it’s just that we have been conditioned not to hear it as such.

It is not only a risk, but also an opportunity.

This helps us understand the contradiction behind the OSM’s statement that “a concert stage is not an appropriate stage for political commentary.” The orchestra has done exactly this on numerous occasions in the past (such as during a fundraising concert for Ukraine it organized in 2022, or in its expressions of support for the Voice of Parliament last year).

But it also helps us understand why, when a composer or performer (or in Witness’s case, both) actively seeks to reveal the political content of their work, it can still shock, even upset, us.

This power of classical music to elevate but also to obscure our attention and sympathy represents both an ever-present opportunity and risk for orchestras and their listeners.

This is an area that I think the West-Eastern Divan Orchestra (named after Goethe’s 1819 collection of poems, themselves inspired by the 14th-century Persian lyric poet Hafez) explicitly intends to exploit.

Founded in 1999 by academic Edward Said and conductor/pianist Daniel Barenboim to celebrate the 250th anniversary of Goethe’s birth, the orchestra (now based in Spain) is composed primarily of young Arab and Israeli musicians. By performing orchestral works together, these musicians are challenged by prejudices about the “other.”

As Barenboim once observed,

Israeli children, for example, could not imagine that there were actually people in Damascus, Amman and Cairo who knew how to play the violin and the viola.

Here, the medium of Western classical music serves as a platform from which they can begin to imagine new and better social formations.

While it is understandable that the OSM might normally seek to refrain from engaging in a particular political cause in the same way, it should also not be reluctant to recognise that its work will always exist within and engage with a broader social and political context.

Like all art forms, classical music can also serve to focus our attention on who we consider worthy of our political attention, or to circumscribe them, and why.

In fact, Gillham and D’Netto helped affirm the continued importance and value of the art form that the OSM is ultimately there to defend.

Peter Tregear has appeared on numerous occasions as a performer, presenter or writer for the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra.