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It
was during Verdi's long and tempestuous "Don Carlo," currently
being performed at New York's Metropolitan
Opera, that one was reminded of what
the concept of freedom meant to 16h
Century Europe. As Verdi saw it,
and as it indeed
was, the kings of Europe were often
arrogant, cruel, unreasonable and
absolute tyrants,
owning the lives of their subjects,
prizing those lives not at all, using
women as
possessions and guaranteeing death
to anyone who disagreed with their
ideas.
Verdi's soaring, dark-toned music observed
the cruelties of King Philip, and I
observed to myself that genocide
is not a 20th
Century innovation; it is as old as
the human brain. This particular
genocide
was sponsored by the Catholic Church
in Spain, first against the Moors and
then against Jews. Conform or die--that
was the motto of the Spanish Inquisition.
Spain
in 1560, according to Verdi, still had a grand inquisitor,
and Verdi portrayed him as an old man, blind, and with
hands stained red from all of the blood spilled in
the church's name The prince, Don Carlo, had been engaged
to Elizabeth of Valois (France), but his father, decadent
King Philip, had seized her and married her himself.
Verdi was a champion of liberty, and he responded positively
to the plight of honorable men and women caught up
in personal and national turmoil. The music carries
the plot forward to its ultimate mixed-up ending. Don
Carlo gives up Elizabeth and disappears, presumably
going off to help free the starving, beaten people
of Flanders from the despotic rule of his father and
the Spanish.
A night at the Metropolitan is magic, and along
with the music in many of Verdi's operas is a message,
if you pay attention, of what America might have
meant to the struggling European inhabitants of
the 16th, 17th and 18th Centuries: a new chance,
no more cruel kings, land of your own maybe, and
a right to decide your own future in or out of
the church. The notion of personal freedom barely
existed back then, Verdi, writing in 1872, was
aware, but he himself cared greatly about the relationships
of the ruled and the tyrants who ruled them, and
personal freedom is exalted in the libretti of
many of his operas.
So the World Economic Forum is following in the
right footsteps, coming from east to west, but
for obviously different reasons. Coming to New
York City instead of returning to beautiful Davos
in democratic Switzerland has nothing to do with
escaping tyranny. But it does give New York, the
recent scene of a fanatic's villainy, a chance
to celebrate our freedom with the several thousand
conferees. The WEF has made a significant statement
of solidarity that is impressive. New Yorkers do
indeed need you now. While we can't offer snowmobiles
or skiing, we can offer ice skating in Rockefeller
Center and Central Park. We are glad you came and
we hope you will have a richly wonderful conference.
And there is great music, at Lincoln Center, when
day is done.
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