We think of Daniel Barenboim as a musician. And that he is: a formidable pianist, very much in demand as a conductor, and an eloquent lecturer on musical matters.
But, as he explains in this book, music doesn't exist in isolation. We wouldn't listen to these noises in the first place if they didn't communicate something to us about life — its joys and sorrows — and, he argues persuasively, much else besides. Music is connected to everything, and has power. He quotes Aristotle: "music has a power of forming the character, and should therefore be introduced into the education of the young".
Here's one example of what music can teach us about life. Barenboim writes that "in a spoken dialogue between two human beings, one waits until the other has finished what he has to say before replying or commenting on it. In music, two voices are in dialogue simultaneously, each one expressing itself to the fullest, while at the same time listening to the other."
He offers another example: "Young adults who experience passion for the first time and lose all sense of discipline can see through music how the two must coexist — even the most passionate phrase has to have an underlying sense of order".
When Barenboim says that everything is connected, he's thinking not only of music. The fabric of his book includes his parents and grandparents, his upbringing in Argentina and Israel, and the political ideas and ideals he has been developing over sixty years.
Most of us know of the brave, stimulating, inspiring work he does with the West-Eastern Divan Orchestra, which he co-founded with the Palestinian Edward Said and continues to run since Said's death. Fewer people might know of his feelings about the political situation. In his youth he found Israel to be "the most social, idealistic state imaginable". Since the 1960s, though, hard-liners have prevailed and he no longer feels comfortable there. His work on both sides of the border has given him a rare perspective. He writes that "many Israelis have no idea what it must feel like to be Palestinian — how it is to live in a city like Nablus, a prison for 180,000 people. There are no restaurants there, no cafés, no cinemas. What has become of our Jewish intelligence? I am not even speaking of justice or love. There will never be a military solution. The destinies of the Israeli and Palestinian peoples are inextricably linked."
Barenboim doesn't hold a US passport and maybe that's why he doesn't criticize the US role in this situation. But who is it that needs to hear Barenboim's message? Not just Israelis and Palestinians. The hard-liners who have hijacked Israeli policy-making can carry on because their policies have the almost unwavering support of American politicians. And this, in turn, is because any American politician who dares suggest that Palestinians are human beings is very likely to be thrown out in the next election. It's my fellow American voters who need to hear the message. Bizarrely, the most vociferous supporters of Israeli expansionism and Palestinian-bashing are American Christians who don't seem aware that a great many Palestinians are Christian too.
We can't blame all Israelis. Many of them oppose the hard-liners. When Benjamin Netanyahu appeared before the US congress in 2011 to ridicule President Obama's latest ideas for moving the peace process forward, and received several standing ovations, the Haaretz newspaper back in Israel wondered why the congress was applauding someone who had come with nothing but stale, unworkable ideas to offer.
Here are Barenboim's closing words: "I am a short-term pessimist about the Middle East, but a long-term optimist. Either we will find a way to live with each other, or we will kill each other. What gives me hope? Music-making. Because, before a Beethoven symphony, Mozart's Don Giovanni or Wagner's Tristan und Isolde, all human beings are equal."