next year in damascus

Ha'aretz (which I've been reading even more frequently than usual, due to its excellent coverage of the Gaza disengagment & aftermath) has a wonderful article about the recent Ramallah concert of Barenboim and Said's East-West Divan Orchestra, which brings young musicians from Israel and the Arab world together to train in Seville and play concerts around the world. (Via thariel--who's actually seen them perform, the lucky bastard--see also these two Guardian stories on the same subject.)

In the face of such stories, it becomes blessedly difficult to maintain much skepticism about the most basic, simple potential of such cross-community peacebuilding efforts: the chance to acknowledge the existence of the other side of the story. As one of the young performers says, "now I understand that there is life here. They never show that on television." Some of the Israeli musicians, the article recounts, were nervous and apprehensive before the trip to Ramallah. But after:

In the end, your fears were completely unfounded?

Alperin: "Yes, and I wouldn't have forgiven myself if I hadn't gone. During the intermission, I spoke with one of the Palestinian guards and asked him if he was happy we came. `You can't imagine how happy I am,' he replied, and it simply gave me goosebumps. `And you?' he asked. I told him I was in a state of ecstasy.

"We knew the roadblock closed at 10 P.M.," Alperin continues, "and at that hour Barenboim was still talking on the stage. So we hoped they would tell us that they're sorry, the roadblock is closed already, and you have to stay the night in Ramallah. But they simply threw us out when the last chord was played, we didn't even change clothes, and they left the roadblock open only for us."

Alperin says that after the concert, the musicians sat in their hotel talking enthusiastically until three in the morning. Is the fight with your parents over? "They watched the broadcast live, and my father, who plays in the Philharmonic, was very proud and was enthusiastic about the professionalism, as was my mother." And your fear of the Palestinian drivers? "I was wrong, and I am happy that I was able to learn from my mistake. Now I am only resentful that not everyone can see the situation through my eyes." Will you come again? "For sure. If I came here, there is no reason for me not to come back to Ramallah, or anywhere else. I am already looking forward to next year, to concerts in Damascus, Tel Aviv and Gaza. I'm dying to go to Damascus."

I've watched this kind of recognition happen among friends and colleagues in certain academic contexts--sometimes slowly, and with difficulty, and tears and bitter misunderstandings along the way--but it has always left me wanting to say, Screw the politicians, and trust the future to the kids with violins, the ones going to Ramallah not "with a stick that can shoot, but a stick that makes music."