Culture, humanism and politics

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Translated from the Norwegian

 

Your Royal Highness and all other friends of music,

I would like to congratulate you all on the occasion of Edvard Grieg’s birthday. I am delighted to be here together with the Minister of Culture and Church Affairs. This reflects the close links and cooperation between the Grieg commemoration and cultural events organised at home and abroad.

Edvard Grieg gave us music with meaning, music with roots, music with Wanderlust. But the composer and humanist Grieg was also a man of conviction. He became engaged in the issues of his time because he heard discordance in the world around him, and because he was able to see people – people as individuals – and groups that were persecuted.

Grieg collected folk tunes, composed, performed, conducted, and studied and travelled extensively abroad, but he also saw injustice. In a letter to the writer Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson in 1904 he wrote: “A sense of justice and strong indignation at any travesty of justice is something I have always possessed.” A sense of justice – what does that have to do with music?

Let me begin elsewhere, in a different time – a time that was also coloured by a sense of justice.

As the first cracks appeared in the Berlin Wall in the autumn of 1989, and we were glued in amazement to our TV sets, the great cellist Mstislav Rostropovich – or Slava as he was widely known – sat down with his cello by the largest opening in the wall and played Bach suites.

He was playing for life. For the lives of others. He was playing music with meaning.

He said afterwards that he played out of pure joy, as it was the wall in his own life that was being torn down.

Soldiers, police officers and Berliners passed by, back and forth, from east to west and back again, confused but happy. 

The Cold War was thawing. The fetters were loosening. Would it last?

And when Boris Yeltsin climbed up onto a tank in Moscow in August 1991, sparking off resistance to the coup, Rostropovich was there too. The image of his playing in Red Square is still as vivid in my mind’s eye as it was on the TV screen.

The world held its breath. But the cellist kept a firm grip on his bow. In this historic moment, when everything hung in the balance, he showed that culture could light the way ahead.

Music with meaning, a soundboard that was able to withstand and still withstands great intensity of feeling.

*****

Many years and very many musical works separate our time and Rostropovich’s time from Grieg’s. Grieg did not stand on the barricades side by side with tanks in Red Square, or by the Berlin Wall.

Grieg was a frail man with poor health. But he had a sharp pen, black and white keys, a baton, rhythm, a big heart, a clear voice and a tonality and musicality that lifted people up, and continues to do so.

Besides he stood on his own personal barricades. He was, as we have just heard, one of the strongest Norwegian supporters of Alfred Dreyfus – the wrongfully convicted Jewish officer, who wrote the famous article entitled “J’accuse” in the Paris newspaper L’Aurore in March 1898, together with Emile Zola and others.

And he may have been one of those who suffered most directly for this.

In a sharp reply to an invitation from the leader of a French orchestra at the time, Grieg wrote: “I greatly regret to inform you that, in view of the outcome of the Dreyfus case, I cannot come to France at this time. Like all non-Frenchmen, I am so indignant over the contempt with which law and justice are treated in your county that I could not bring myself to perform for a French audience.”

His letter was translated and published in the major European newspapers. It caused an outcry. The Dreyfus affair had become a symbol of free thought, justice and democracy in both the political and the cultural arenas, and Grieg’s words carried considerable weight.

This is a well-known chapter in Grieg’s life. Perhaps less well-known is an incident that occurred when he finally returned to Paris to perform in 1903. As he was about to take his place on the podium, he was met with a tremendous booing from a large part of the 3 500-strong audience, and he had to wait a considerable time before he was able to raise his baton. The police force had to be reinforced to three times its size before it was able to throw out the trouble makers, the story goes. (Things could clearly be pretty lively then too!)  

A large police escort accompanied Edvard and Nina Grieg to their hotel afterwards, and formed a cordon to protect them, as Grieg later noted.

And now to draw some lines to our own day: a Grieg/Dreyfus seminar and concert will be held in Paris on 22 October this year.

*****

I have been inspired by the Grieg events this year to draw some lines (as I did during the Ibsen Year in 2006), to identify some links between music and foreign policy, between music and international ties, and I have thought a bit about how these can have an effect on the work we do in the Foreign Ministry and the foreign service.

I have identified four main lines. The first, as a kind of prelude, is this.

Music is a universal language, a common language.

All cultures can meet and communicate through music. Music is spoken fluently across language barriers. People listen to one another, play, experience, learn, understand. Together.

Music is thus an international means of expression. A unique global tool.

All you need is musical instruments; your own voice can be enough. But far more important, you need to listen, play, enjoy, experience and respond to what you hear.

I have been told that music follows patterns that are universal. The melody in “Morning Mood” from Grieg’s Peer Gynt Suite No. 1 can be heard in folk music all over the world, particularly in the East, and can be played not only on a traditional Norwegian Harding fiddle or the black keys of a piano, but on many different kinds of instrument. “Morning Mood” comes to Peer Gynt, it seeps into his inner being, as he is lying virtually unconscious on a beach in Morocco, or – as in the magnificent production in Egypt last autumn – by the Sphinx in Giza.

Peer Gynt with his ear against the sand. Almost with his head in the sand perhaps? In any case it wakes him up and makes him think. And it is precisely this that Grieg gets across – the sense that “Morning Mood”, a melody everyone recognises all over the world, is our very own.

This ready recognition, or identification, is highlighted in Erling Dahl Jr’s new biography. And he gave me a copy just now. Thank you again very much.

My first reflection, in other words, is on how the universal language of music provides people with a framework of shared experience and points of reference, and that this is something that is badly needed.

The second of my four points is that music, like other art forms grows out of creativity, curiosity, the search for insight, depth and reflection.

Reflection – as opposed to the automatic reflexes that the world is so full of – is something that helps humanity, helps the whole world, to move forwards. Dialogue between musicians, composers and other artists, jam sessions, festival orchestras, and dialogue between musicians and the audience, the public, everyone listening, all this creates room for new sounds, big thoughts, courageous solutions, new ideas. It creates room to meet challenges. A creative process. All we have to do is listen.

Besides, ideas, thoughts and possibilities can arise that we politicians – and other mortals – may not so readily see or advocate.

Thus my second reflection is as follows.

Something that musicians and other artists have to teach us is the importance of creativity and interaction, and the connection between them.

And one of the most important things music gives us – both at home and abroad – is a shared experience, a meeting with a common cultural heritage, a meeting with ourselves. Virtually every town and village in Norway with any self-respect, and with an active proponent of culture on the local council, sets up some kind of festival or musical happening where precisely this type of interaction and shared experience is an important element. The ripple effects are many and they are positive. This is value creation along several axes.

Moreover, artists and other cultural actors are often outspoken, yet their exchange of experience takes place within a framework of mutual respect and an ability to listen. I believe this is a good model. And there are many examples of the cultural arena being important for establishing and maintaining contact in situations otherwise characterised by deadlock and conflict.

Culture can thus help to create peace; music can raise the agenda an octave to the issues that are important for all parties, to the principles that can be agreed, to the key note. Culture is an arena in which important and sometimes sensitive subjects such as censorship, indoctrination, freedom of expression, freedom of belief and gender equality can be raised even in cases where the language of politics is not getting through.

Cultural contact is particularly important with countries and societies that we do not know enough about, that we do not properly understand. Exploring the cultural landscape can be a way of doing the footwork.

And Edvard Grieg himself once wrote that: “It is of course primarily science and art that are the ideal way to present one people to another.” Science and art.

So to my third reflection which is on the sense of belonging.

The global concert hall – whether in one of the world’s great cities or on the worldwide web – reflects the trends of today, cultural expressions and cultural impressions. Technology has given us unlimited access to information on other countries’ cultures, art, musicians and music. We have teenagers who download whatever they want to listen to at any time; they can remix the music themselves, they can even fill up their father’s iPod!

This information revolution is a highly visible and audible aspect of globalisation. But whether it is equally able to foster the ability to listen is another question.

Against the backdrop of this soundscape, every single Norwegian artist is important for Norway as a nation. They are all expressing the age they live in, their environment, their experiences, their upbringing.

And so did Grieg, from his first difficult days at the Leipzig Conservatory as a 15-year-old, and on throughout his life, in Copenhagen, Paris, Brussels, Berlin, Bergen.

He brought Norway’s cultural heritage out to the rest of the world. But perhaps even more important, he brought vital foreign impetus into the country. And this was needed. In 1898, for example, Grieg took the initiative for what was the forerunner to the Bergen International Festival, which started properly more than 50 years later, by inviting a large, professional European orchestra to Bergen to show how music could be played. We had plenty to learn from abroad; that was very clear.

Norway’s cultural heritage, our own cultural identity, is our contribution to global diversity, to the global web. Our cultural heritage is part of our self-image, and it is also part of other people’s impression of us, of our reputation.

And, of course, sometimes our self-image and our reputation do not match. Grieg was one of those who have warned against what he called “Norwegian chauvinism”.

But just as importantly, cultural heritage and contemporary culture constitute a significant foreign policy asset, as I observe every day. Our foreign trade is not based solely on oil, gas, fish and knitted sweaters. We also export our creativity, our art and our music.

Culture is also an important asset in our foreign policy, in our contacts and cooperation. And we want more of it. We want to increase our focus on culture in our foreign policy, and we have already given it a more prominent place.

Here is a random example: Europe Day on 9 May was an occasion for large-scale celebrations, including in Romania – one of the newest EU members and one of our new partners in the EEA. The new national opera house in Bucharest gave a gala performance of Ibsen’s and Grieg’s Peer Gynt to a full house. I don’t know whether the globetrotter Peer Gynt is regarded as an EU supporter. My view is that his somewhat split personality provides an excellent archetype for both the pro- and anti-EU campaigner. (Peer illustrates just how ingenious Ibsen’s characterisation is – we are all perhaps rather split on this issue.) But there is no doubt that Peer Gynt was a citizen of the world, and both the play and the music are known the world over.

Here is another example: Akershus County Council has established cooperation with the Niterói Contemporary Art Museum in Brazil. The project has been given the name Kunstfyret in Norwegian and Faro Cultural in Portuguese, which mean “lighthouse of culture”. It is an opportunity for children and young people to explore their own creativity and new technology, including in relation to Grieg’s harmony. 

And then there are the students at one of the music academies in Berlin, who are working together with music students in Oslo to create new works based on Grieg’s heritage. This is cooperation in the key of culture.

And now to my fourth reflection, and here I am returning to Grieg’s involvement in the Dreyfus case. Artists can, in a way few others are able to, draw people’s attention to injustice, discrimination, intolerance. And they can uphold universal common ideals, such as those set out in the UN Universal Declaration of Human rights.

A good example here is the launch of Amnesty International’s Make Some Noise campaign in Oslo two days ago, when a “military” parade including 50 guitarists – your old group of guitar-playing friends times ten – marched up Karl Johan. Music being used in the fight for human rights. It was a real breath of fresh air!

In the international arena, in foreign policy, it is precisely this engagement, this solidarity, that is important. Complacency is our common enemy. We need engaged Norwegian voices. People who are seen and heard among the greater Norwegian “we”, among a broader, more diverse Norwegian population.

This means that Norwegian artists are also a foreign policy resource – beyond the intrinsic value of their art for its own sake.

And here I would like to make a little digression. I have a number of the excellent Grieg CDs that were produced specially for this year’s commemoration, and I am very happy to be able to give them to colleagues and other visitors.

In foreign policy you have to stand up for values, you have to be a visible participant with the will to engage in discussions and dialogue, to make compromises, to find solutions. Musicians are in fact living examples of freedom of expression through the music they create.

All the major challenges today are international in nature: climate change, energy demand, poverty, human trafficking, corruption, and we will only be able to address these challenges and help to find solutions if civil society – with all its ideas, expertise and networks – is involved.

Artists and other cultural actors excel here. We see it in the works they produce, in their books, films, drawings, compositions; and we see it in their attitudes, in their various forms of expression. Just like Grieg. His ideals and visions gave him a voice out in the world; he spoke through his music, through his letters, and – something we are going to have far too little of in the future – through his conversations.

Friends,

It is 164 years since Edvard Hagerup Grieg was born in Strandgaten in Bergen, and it is 100 years since he died. Last year was Ibsen Year, which was commemorated all over the world and not least in this building. The next centenary, in 2008, will be Henrik Wergeland’s, and he will be followed by Knut Hamsun in 2009, and then by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson in 2010. We are celebrating one outstanding artist after another. They are an important part of our heritage, and the National Library of Norway is going to be kept busy.  

As composer, Edvard Grieg changed the soundscape of Norwegian nature. He brought a primeval Norwegian sound – but one with an everyday, popular, readily recognisable tone – into the world’s great concert halls. Grieg put his ear to the ground, wrote down what he heard, added new notes and continued the process of composition.

As a musician and as a collector of folk tunes, Grieg opened up a musical treasure chest, and he shared this treasure with the rest of the world. He was at the forefront of the efforts to build the nation and consolidate a Norwegian cultural identity. “We, too, are a music nation,” he said.

But lasting fame was not something Grieg expected. He said to a foreign journalist just before he died: “I make no pretensions of being in the same class as Bach, Mozart and Beethoven. Their works are eternal, while I have written for my day and generation.” Here he was wrong. And I am glad of that.

As foreign minister, I frequently receive foreign colleagues and other visitors from abroad, including presidents, and I often have the pleasure of taking them to Bergen. One of the places visitors most want to see is Troldhaugen. Many ask to sit at Grieg’s own grand piano. At the keys. As close as they can get to Grieg himself.

And now, 100 years later, we are here, and Grieg continues to be an idol with a strong presence – in music classrooms, in studios, in concert halls and on the Internet. When I Googled “Edvard Grieg” I got 1 370 000 hits in 0.14 seconds. One of the websites that came up, by the way, was Norway – the official site, which is published in 19 languages.

Artists and cultural actors need foreign impetus in order to grow and retain their creativity. Good art is not introspective. Good art reaches out. We were reminded of this yesterday when Per Petterson was awarded the prestigious IMPAC Dublin Literary Award. International cultural meeting places foster growth through the exchange of stimuli, ideas, experience. Moreover cultural rights are, as we know, among the inalienable universal human rights. A strong, dynamic cultural sector guarantees more peaceful, democratic social development. Not to mention more value creation.

Grieg was aware of this. Let me therefore conclude – in the spirit of Grieg – with these four main lines, these four links between music and foreign policy:

• music as a universal, common language,
• music as interaction, harmony and cooperation,
• music as a source of both local and global identity, and
• music as a voice for rights, ideals and values.

Thank you.