Nestor, Samuel, me, Ana and Elizabeth.

I’ve always felt that the great touring ensembles like the Símon Bolívar Orchestra of Venezuela, or the Youth Orchestra of the State of Bahia, Brazil, might be the most famous faces of the South American wave of symphonic music making, but not necessarily the most representative of its spirit – or its reality. The excellent, inspirational nature of their performances seems offset by the advancing age of the musicians (the Símon Bolívar is no longer billed as a “youth orchestra”), the expensive instruments, the international jet-setting, and the extraordinary government largess behind them. It’s a wonderful effect, but it’s not the cause; it’s the victory parade, not the struggle in the trenches.

So if you want to light the Sistema fire anew in a world saturated with Youtube videos of Dudamel whipping through Bernstein’s Mambo, avoiding the repetitive conferences with the usual suspects, maybe you look to the people still in the trenches, the (actual) young, the good, and the metaphorically hungry for opportunity. You don’t need many, but you do need to give them a chance to be spectacular.

And they’ll take it, of course. For a full week in Prince George, British Columbia, four young South American musicians dazzled incredibly diverse audiences. Certainly, the concert with the Prince George Symphony was a highlight: horn player Elizabeth Linares, age 18 from San Carlos, delivered the Saint-Saëns Morceau de Concerto virtually flawlessly in her solo début. Violinist Samuel Vargas, age 16 from Acarigua, also has his premiere performance as a soloist, nailing the Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso by the same composer. Both earned immediate standing ovations. They, along with violist Ana Paulin (Brazil-Salvador) and oboist Nestor Solorzano (Venezuela-Guanare) joined the ranks of PGSO in the second half for a selection of Latin American repertoire. Malambo, Danzon No. 2, Huapango, Tico-Tico…. The barn burners. And the barn burned.

In the words of others:

What an awesome night!

This was the best concert of the season by far. I have never seen the PGSO so animated and the Latin musicians were amazing. (From a board member!)

The Latinos put on such an invigorating show with the PG symphony last night at Vanier Hall!. So much more dancing and laughing than we are used to here in the North! Thank you for bringing this vibrant and exciting group to Prince George

And my personal favourite:

That was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen happen in a concert hall in my life

You can read the local review here. Yes, it really was like a rock concert.

Both orchestra and visitors surpassed all expectations that night – even their own, I think. But there were other moments as significant and as dazzling, and perhaps even more meaningful. There were multiple performances in the schools for adoring crowds of children and salon concerts, but one particular event stands out in my mind: the performance at the downtown youth shelter, in front of the toughest audience imaginable.

I betray my biases. I thought they were the toughest audience imaginable, but by the end of the performance they were completely won over. It wasn’t just the energy emanating from the stage, but the fact that the presenters were their age, were people with whom they could identify, even while acknowledging

“They’re really crazy good for how young they are!” (5:53 mark)

It isn’t enough to talk about a new world. You have to create it, and then invite people in. Over the course of the week, Ana, Elizabeth, Nestor and Samuel did just that, and if there were one thing that crowned their success, it was this email to me from José Delgado Guevara, the concertmaster of the PGSO.

On a more personal note, thanks for the small conversation we had during the Salon. You asked me about El Sistema in Prince George, I did tell you then that we still did not have a Sistema inspired program yet, then you mention something about a catalyst and just go ahead and do it. That simple and short conversation did inspire me to put in motion a plan.

This week I will have a series of meetings with the PGSO and the Quinson Elementary school in order to start a Sistema inspired program.

We will star with a pilot program in September of 2013. 5 days a week violin group lessons taught by advance violin students from the Conservatory. These 5 students will meet once a week with me for lesson plans and pedagogical advice.

When I asked José’s permission to reprint this letter on my blog, he readily assented, knowing that public disclosure would bind him irrevocably to action. If you can, please support him.

I would say mission accomplished, but by happenstance this quote came across my Twitter feed today:

José Antonio Abreu: “Nunca podré decir misión cumplida. Yo ando en un compromiso de vida”.

It is a life commitment, but it’s also a joy. Thank you, Ana, Elizabeth, Nestor and Samuel.

Need a fire lit? The contact form is here.

The Story of Vancouver the week after is still to come…

 

The plaque is presented at the outdoor concert in Acarigua-Araure

There is a plaque mounted in pride of place above my desk in Boston. Dedicated to the “Friends and Fellows of Maestro Abreu,” it was presented by the Orquesta Sinfonica Juvenil e Infantil de Acarigua-Araure to me, Dantes Rameau and Stanford Thompson on March 27, 2010 for having given the musicians of the núcleo “Great help in increasing their knowledge, and deepening their musical level […] without counting the moments of intercultural exchange that we shared.”

Long time readers of this blog will be acutely aware of the irony of that statement, for if anything, it was we three Fellows who should have thanked them so graciously. Three years later, my time in Acarigua remains one of the most formative experiences I have had in the sphere of social action through music. It is one thing to give a few lessons or a Masterclass, to lead a single rehearsal, and quite another to have the responsibility for three to four hours of rehearsal every day for weeks. My practice in the sphere of Sistema continues to give impetus to my research and my writings, and the ongoing process of reflecting upon or re-evaluating all those experiences in Venezuela and beyond continues to shape my understanding of both the ethics and mechanics of transforming a society through music.

Elizabeth Linares

Reciprocity is one of the hallmarks of strong social bonds, and it is testament to my time in Acarigua that since March 28 of 2010, I’ve wanted to reciprocate to my friends there. And finally, it appears I will have an opportunity to do so. This weekend, five young musicians from South American will arrive in Canada for two weeks in the province of British Columbia. The first week will be spent in the northern interior, preparing a concert with me and the Prince George Symphony. Samuel Vargas, concertmaster of both the afore mentioned Orquesta Sinfonica de Acarigua AND the Orquesta Nacional Infantil, the latter last convened under the baton of Sir Simon Rattle, will perform Saint-Saëns’ Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso on the first half, along with hornist Elizabeth Linares (also an alumnus of the Orquesta Nacional Infantil), who will present Saint-Saëns’ Morceau de Concert. The second half of the evening will feature a number of gems from the Latin American repertoire, including Huapango, Danzon No. 2 and Malambo, as well as a performance of Gardel’s Por Una Cabeza with the outstanding concertmaster of the PGSO, José Delgado Guevara, as soloist. (Local media article here)

From Prince George, the musicians will then travel 500 miles (800km) south to Vancouver where they will be the guests of the Saint James Music Academy, the primary Sistema program of the Lower Mainland. They’ll be busy, integrating within the daily life of a Canadian núcleo and interacting with Canadian youth for a week, while I lead some faculty teacher-training. Hopefully they’ll have some time to sight-see too.

Neither the PGSO nor the SJMA could have justified doing this on their own, but these two disparate organizations came together and found a way to make this very ambitious project work. Ruth Langner, project lead in Prince George, and Kathryn Walker, Director of SJMA, have put countless hours into fundraising and coordinating these two weeks… hours above and beyond such sundries as, let’s say, the full-time requirements of running a Sistema program. Ruth has even invested her own personal funds into the project. I can’t thank them both enough: the level of commitment has been extraordinary.

Samuel Vargas, left, and Carmen Delgado, right.

And for the record, it had to be. On January 29th, the Canadian Embassy in Caracas closed its visa section, consolidating regional operations in Mexico City. On February 8th, Venezuela devalued its currency, making international plane tickets 50% more expensive overnight. And then on March 5th, Hugo Chávez passed away, bringing the entire nation to a standstill. Every unforeseen event has forced roster changes, cancellations, cost increases, and yet this project has persevered.

In my article “The Five Fundamentals of El Sistema” I wrote “Social change comes through the pursuit of musical excellence, with the discipline it demands and the emotional bonds it creates through mutual struggle and celebration.” We have struggled. Hemos luchado muchos. Now it’s time to play. Ahora Tocamos.

Y celebraremos.

 

What goes up must come down.

It’s one of the most unexpected sights in Caracas: the modern cable car rising out of the concrete jungle to the heights of the St Agustin barrio. It is a bold, ambitious venture in the sprawling, hilly Venezuelan capital to build a physical and psychological connection between the planned city and the topographic and social isolation of the slums.

As a public transportation project, the Teleférico might be considered symbolic of the late Hugo Chavez’s policies towards the poor and dispossessed in Venezuela. Modeled on a similar initiative in Medellin, Colombia, the cable car is one approach to the pressing problem of physical access to these communities. It is also an extremely expensive one, at an estimated cost of $270 million USD for the short stretch it currently serves.

This is the nature of the Chavez approach to domestic policy. Love Chavez or hate him, there’s no question that during his fourteen years as president of Venezuela, some of the poor benefited. The relative improvement is most concretely expressed in the Gini coefficient, a measure of income inequality in which a score of zero represent perfect income distribution. Since Chavez took power, this number has dropped to 0.39, making Venezuela the most equitable nation in South America and placing it virtually on par with the US.

But just like the cable car, at what cost was this improvement achieved? Look beyond the security destabilization to the direct and indirect economic expenses, and the picture might actually be even more troubling. Rampant inflation, capital flight, and currency devaluations all speak to failing trade and fiscal policies. The arbitrary nationalization of industries has invited corruption and waste while undermining foreign investment. Venezuela continues to subsidize gas down to a domestic pump price of mere pennies (a program benefitting only those wealthy enough to own a vehicle), and its diplomatic strategy of making oil available at discount rates to friendly nations such as Cuba, or giving it away entirely to low income households in unfriendly nations such as the US, has compelled the oil-rich nation to start importing fuel at full market prices to meet domestic demand.

This petroleum policy is the equivalent of borrowing money for the sole purposes of giving it away. As a practice it guarantees popularity (Chavez was re-elected with an 11 percentage point margin over his strongest challenger yet, Henrique Capriles) but is wholly unsustainable, and this more than anything else will ultimately have the greatest impact on the activities on el Sistema. The annual budget of the Fundamusical Bolívar is allocated in US dollars, and it has the relative safety cushion of foreign denomination loans for capital projects, but it remains almost entirely dependent on the Venezuelan government for funding its program activities.

Is there danger of a reduction in said funding? In the short term, the answer is probably no. Chavez’s designated successor, Nicolas Maduro, will necessarily campaign for election on an identical if not amplified platform; holding the endorsement but lacking the charisma of el comandante he may be compelled to out-Herod Herod to show his devotion to the ideals of the Revolución Bolivariana. One of Chavez’s last acts was to formally install Eduardo Mendez as the Executive Director of the Fundación (Not Jesse Chacón, as erroneously reported by British gossip-columnist Norman Lebrecht) so at least leadership continuity for el Sistema has been assured.

Long term the prognosis is much more troubling. The recent currency devaluation, Chavez’s parting gift to help the government balance its books, made everything from beyond the Venezuelan borders, such as musical instruments and plane tickets, fifty percent more expensive overnight. The mounting government debts, public dependence on subsidized goods and services, and volatility in the petroleum market are key ingredients in a toxic stew that will only foment even higher levels of social unrest and crime when the inevitable fiscal correction comes. Difficult choices will have to be made – choices that are already being made in the northern Americas. Infrastructure or Health care? Social services or low-income housing? Or worse – Music or Math? Most of these aren’t just Devil’s Bargains, they are Mazlow’s, and it’s easy enough to see the outcomes when viewed through his lens.

Doubtlessly some will take umbrage at the sight of Gustavo Dudamel first and foremost among the young honour guard at Chavez’s funeral, or the youthful musicians in their unmistakable jackets performing at the commemorative ceremonies, but to fixate on the optics of a compulsory relationship is to miss the point. Chavez’s fiscal legacy is far clearer than his social or political bequests to the nation: Sistema has outlasted its eighth political administration and is now into its ninth with Maduro’s interim tenure, however constitutional the latter may be. The question is whether the Fundación will remain unscathed through to an eleventh or twelfth.

 

I didn’t intend for the subject of race to become a two-parter, but my last entry generated a fair amount of private and public inquiry, the former being limited almost exclusively to the question “What about your experience in the music world?”

That’s not something I see much value in discussing in any forum, public or private. As a member of the smallest racial groups within the classical music sphere, with but a single standard bearer, I have no doubt that I’ve been the victim – and perhaps sometimes even the beneficiary – of racism, but the extremely subjective nature of talent assessment in this industry means that it would nearly impossible for me to verify either with absolute certainty. So rather than waste energy debating moot points, I try to get on with my life and focus on being better at what I do. And when someone is so foolish as to suggest that I want to be the next Zubin Mehta, I look them in the eye and tell them I’m quite happy being the first Jonathan Govias, thank you kindly.

The fact of the matter is that racism, much like sexism, is one of the most obvious forms of discrimination and is simple enough to correct cosmetically, (whether the will exists is another story) but improving the race or gender quotas is quite different from addressing the very distinct, very separate issues of diversity and discrimination.

Diversity isn’t just about optics. Admittedly, in Canada and the USA there is a strong correlation between race and socio-economic standing, but the general industry practice of admitting some visible minorities to an orchestra does nothing to address the underlying issue if those rare individuals come from the same middle to upper-class backgrounds as the remainder of the musicians.This is one area in which Sistema work has real, demonstrable social impact, by ensuring equality of opportunity across socio-economic strata. But there are other kinds of diversity beyond the visible, including cultural and intellectual. Sistema work can certainly express cultural diversity, but can it foster the intellectual variety as well? Therein lies a far greater challenge, and a topic for another entry another day.

Diversity aside, the discrimination problem is far deeper and more insidious. Prejudices manifest in how we engage with children or adults based not just on their race and gender, but also on their attractiveness, their weight, how extroverted they may be, how talented they are perceived to be or whether they’re just plain likeable. There’s even research to suggest these factors go far beyond the teacher-student dynamic, encroaching on the parent-child relationship as well. This behaviour is so common and so pervasive in scope that some degree of biological imperative might well be inferred. From the NY Times article linked above:

“Like lots of animals, we tend to parcel out our resources on the basis of value,” he said. “Maybe we can’t always articulate that, but in fact we do it. There are a lot of things that make a person more valuable, and physical attractiveness may be one of them.” – Dr. Andrew Harrell, University of Alberta

If there existed a Harrellian Hierarchy of human social standing based simply on advertising impressions, pretty Caucasian girls would be at the top (a fact one has had the courage to acknowledge, even if she failed to address the negative outcomes of the sexualization and objectification that are concomitant), associated with success and high standard of living, with overweight, unattractive minority boys (that was me, growing up. I’ve changed BMI since…) at the bottom. But it’s that kind of discrimination which is far more common and far more damaging than we like to admit, because it’s the kind in which we all engage.

In my previous entry I noted how racial sub or counter cultures were racist by definition. They are also normally reactive and protective in nature. This context severely prejudices any conversations that could be had with children on the topic of racism when those same children may go home to households in which the principles of discrimination are culturally and verbally reinforced night after night. Eric’s question posed in my last entry is borne of an appreciation of these sensitivities. When working with minorities, do we validate this divisive messaging by acknowledging the truth, or deny the reality these children will face? And how much effect would either assertion have, given the imbalance of influence?

We’re not powerless, however. As someone with two young daughters, I can state with certainty that children are far more attuned to our actions than our words, and the values and behaviours we model carry much greater weight than any conversation. Our first obligation in addressing all forms of bias, particularly those beyond race and gender, is to ensure our behaviour is consistently egalitarian and supportive of every student in our care. This represents a much more challenging proposition than conventional interventionist approaches, demanding far more patience and apperception and offering far fewer immediate rewards. This course of action doesn’t negate the potential impact of a well-chosen, timely word; rather, it gives that word legitimacy and sincerity.

Sistema programs will help change the massive racial imbalance in one industry, but racism remains a matter of nurture. Far more challenging to shift is our nature as human beings to categorize and treat one another based on any number of superficial or false impressions or qualities. 49 years after the Civil Rights Act in America, we still have work to do.

It’s a Venezuelan rite of passage, and essential part of the el Sistema experience: the bestowing of a nickname. The act is less a sign of affection, more a kind of taxonomical shorthand, given names being far less relevant and less descriptive or identifying than one well-chosen sobriquet. During my time in Acarigua I was referred to as “Aladin” (Ala-DEEN), by virtue of my purportedly Persian features. My colleagues Stanford and Dantes were less fortunate as a relative measure, being lumped together simply as “Los Negritos,” or in literal translation, “The little (in the endearing sense) black guys.”

My experiences in Acarigua, well documented in this forum, might well be described as a magic carpet ride, and I might flatter myself in thinking that I opened “A whole new world” for the orchestra musicians, but the inevitable truth is that our collective re-christenings were based on race – in a manner that I personally found entirely inoffensive or devoid of malice. As I was probably the only person of Indian racial features within several hundred miles in Acarigua, I can easily understand how “Aladin” would be an instant visual identifier, even though the name reveals nothing about me as a person.

There’s the problem with race: it’s an artificial social construct based on the most superficial of cosmetic externalities. Failure to understand this distinction has led to discrimination of the worst kinds, perhaps never with more tragic consequences than the Rwandan conflict between Hutus and Tutsis, differentiated as peoples solely by minor variation in skin tone as arbitrarily determined by the Belgian colonists. Ethnicity, on the other hand, is a far more meaningful measure, incorporating ideas of religion, culture, language and identity, and not necessarily those inherited but also those adopted. Racially I may appear Persian. Ethnically, I’m perhaps more Western European, in terms of my education, political outlook, religious heritage, languages…and predilection for sparkling mineral water.

In this context, the discussion of race within North American el Sistema is problematic from the start: discussions of identity, culture – ethnicity – frame the issues much more clearly. The fact that the faculty of most Sistema programs rarely looks like the students is more an expression of cultural values than racial. This is not a situation for which anyone should apologize: participation is voluntary; this work is the best way to correct that imbalance; it is currently conducted by those with the will to do so; and its leaders are simply teaching what they know. Not all the work is good, not all of it is well-informed, some of it is very colonialist in attitude, but this is the reality of almost all social activity.

The situation is not without its nuances, but cultural imposition is more a danger outside of the musical activity than within. When a student uses bad grammar by what may be considered a formal literary standard, it might be better to parse the context before offering to parse the sentence, and ask the question: is this just an error, or is this a cultural form of speech?

If the lapse were not just a slip of the tongue, consider the causes. Spoken syntax can take the form and function of a shibboleth for a sub or counter-culture, entry into whose formal and informal social and economic networks may be a matter of survival for some. These parallel cultures can operate under strict admission codes normally rooted in but not limited to race. Members of any one race entering cultural spheres dominated by another typically face hostility and prejudice: racial counter-cultures are racist by definition, and are deeply rooted and constantly reinforced.

If what some consider bad grammar is in fact a cultural expression, correcting the student may actually be more harmful than helpful. It’s also useful to ask whether correcting the student serves any function other than satisfying the corrector’s need for didactic utility. Speech patterns are generally learned behaviours, and a one-shot correction is not going to change years of immersion. Sometimes – sometimes – it’s better to consider certain forms of divergent grammar as a different dialect. The best solution is not to attempt to speak the dialect, as a form of condescension at best, mockery at worst, but to model consistently the verbal behaviours you would like learned. It would contribute significantly to the students’ potential life and career outcomes were they to develop the ability to alternate between dialects, as a form of social and cultural capital, allowing them to engage with multiple ethnicities, each on its own terms. Replacement of culture is colonialism, addition of culture is cosmopolitanism.

I’ve endeavoured to avoid framing the issue from the perspective of one ethnicity, because each culture, regardless of associated race or races, creates its own barriers as a matter of self-preservation and self-propagation. Instruction in ensemble music making, regardless of the ethnicities predominantly serving or being served, is an effort to dismantle some of those barriers. The act may bear an element of arrogance and value-judgment, but this is true of all education, as I’ve said in this forum before.

Right now I don’t believe Sistema has a race problem. Twenty years from now, if the faculty/student picture hasn’t changed, we will, but I think that very unlikely. I’m fairly certain that twenty years from now we’ll have a different race problem: a tidal wave of outstanding musicians from minorities previously invisible within the performing arts, seeking entry into a symphony industry currently dominated by two racial groups and infamous for its glacial response to any kind of change. (There are exceptions – Dallas SO Heartstrings program comes to mind as one initiative leading this process.) But this will be a good problem to have, and hopefully Sistema practitioners will take pride in having created it.

 

“I want to show you something,” Roberto Zambrano declared one day when we were driving back from lunch (the best pepitos in Venezuela, for those in the know) during my last trip to Acarigua. He took a turn off the main road that constituted the usual route to the núcleo, passed through some quiet side streets and eventually drove into a grassy field bounded by low-rise residential areas. At the centre of these grounds were a few institutional-looking grey buildings, all about three stories in height, all grim concrete edifices. Roberto and I left the vehicle at the edge of a large pavilion of flagstones leading toward the entry, a multi-story glass wall flanked by concrete columns. Through the inset glass doors a connecting courtyard or foyer was revealed, the late afternoon sun illuminating the space within through the skylights in the roof. Then Roberto surprised me.

“One day I would like this to be our núcleo,” he said.

Roberto is a man of rare vision, action and integrity within the Fundación, but this particular challenge may well be beyond even him. These buildings, originally started as part of a new university development, had been abandoned in mid construction some years earlier. The gaping windows, overgrown courtyard and surroundings and complete abandonment gave a grim impression of post-apocalyptic decay, not a bright musical future. Admittedly, the courtyard would make an admirable performance venue, the classrooms could be reconfigured to practice or rehearsal rooms, with the entirety constituting a tremendous upgrade on the existing facility of a dilapidated house – but demanding a directly proportional amount of money and effort to achieve as well.

A walkthrough of the Acarigua núcleo

So when Geoff Baker questions the planned disposition of the $350 million loan from the CAF to the Fundación, and speculates on the alternative of an allocation of more than $1 million to each of the núcleos across the nation, I have direct, personal knowledge of the good those funds could do thus disbursed, of the positive impact even a fraction of the amount could have in a small town in the middle of Los Llanos. But the bigger picture may not be so simple.

Those incomplete buildings in a field in Acarigua may represent unfulfilled potential, but they also symbolize the fickle nature of government funding: breaking ground and building one day, complete abandonment the next. In recent years the Fundación has benefited enormously from the support of Hugo Chavez and high international oil prices, but the program’s leadership surely knows that neither can last forever. Both President and commodity are currently in decline: the former enough so that he has openly nominated a successor for the first time since he began his battle with cancer. There is no guarantee that subsequent administrations will support the work of the Fundación to the same extent, so planning for a leaner future would be the most sensible option.

And a leaner future implies greater self-sufficiency on the part of the Fundación, which means investing now in the infrastructure to ensure it has the capacity to earn some revenue later. I can only speculate how this might be accomplished, through such activities as print and digital media publications, or training facilities and residences for international visitors. Centralization in this case might be essential. With the loan (not a grant) and concomitant conditions of use from the CAF, the Fundación has greater assurance of the facilities being completed than if the government were to allocate the funds directly.

For that matter, were I in a leadership position at the Fundación, I would have a private agenda of securing what funding I could, gifted or loaned, for capital projects. Any sums received would be invested in land, as consistent with the purposes for which the monies were solicited. Should the levels of government support remain stable, I would proceed with facility development…and should funding drop, I would have a large reserve of cash held in an inflation-proof vehicle. (Current inflation stands at 18%, down from 27% at the start of the year.) It would be the perfect savings account for the proverbial rainy day, with consideration to the political and economic optics.

The stands truly are awful.

Naturally this is purely speculative on my part, and no one from the Fundación would ever confirm the existence of such an agenda. But they must be mindful of the future in an unstable political and economic context, and they need to ensure that programming continues to be executed, even in garden sheds or the (apocryphal?) abandoned bank. The Fundación’s programming is people-driven, not facility-driven. It has an uncommonly narrow and specific mandate that demands human resources more than bricks and mortar: the history of the organization is proof enough of that. While I would love to see a decent facility in Acarigua – while I would love to see them retire the unstable, home-made music stands they currently have – they can get by in their decaying house with intermittent air-conditioning and rusting equipment. They can’t do without their faculty, which is what the Fundación pays for.

 

There’s no finish line.

In what may well be an international first, a private Canadian foundation has stepped up to create a nationwide granting initiative for El Sistema programs. Thanks to the generosity of the J.W. McConnell Family Foundation, a fund of $60,000 CAD has now been established from which grants of up to $10,000 will be awarded. This initiative, to be administered by the National Arts Centre in Ottawa, is intended to catalyze the proliferation of social action through music in Canada by strategically supporting three key areas of activity that are normally extremely difficult for programs to finance: pre-startup, early years, and evaluation. The deadline for submission of proposals is January 11th, 2013.

Information concerning the application process, including eligibility criteria, is available here. Please do not contact me for assistance with an application: I have been asked to serve on the adjudication committee, and in the event of any conflict of interest will be honour-bound to recuse myself.

It’s important to recognize that this is a remarkably bold move on the part of the McConnell Foundation. In specifically targeting start-ups, and not just recently created programs but those not yet in existence, the Foundation is accepting an uncommon degree of risk. Philanthropy is naturally and reasonably risk averse: the fact that returns are social, as opposed to financial, does not diminish the expectation that they be achieved. It’s much safer to support established programs or activities that directly serve program constituents, but such an approach does little to foster geographic growth.

I cannot speak on behalf of the Foundation, but I assume they recognize that in undertaking to fund the creation of programs, they accept the higher potential that some grant recipients will eventually prove unsustainable. But this is precisely where social investment differs from financial: with social investment there can be more than one definition of success. Under the parameters established through this granting program, even if a venture falls short of sustainability, it will still have made an important, if not essential contribution to the development of a national critical mass of socio-musical activity, as well as a critical mass of knowledge on implementation challenges and how to resolve them.

It’s a long game to play, and few have the vision and patience for it. Congratulations to the McConnell Foundation and to the NAC.

 

Click above for the whole form

In what may well be an act of monumental folly and indiscretion, I’ve posted a scan of a musical report card I received a few decades ago. Instead of validating my burgeoning, prodigious talent (as one might expect, given that I’m posting it), the evaluation from the undated Grade 2 Royal Conservatory of Music piano examination rather condemns me with its indifference. The remarks are relatively positive, as befit those given to a child still in the single-digits column of age, but are still reserved. The grade is neither impressive nor disastrous.

Lest anyone think I’m inciting the wrath of the internet to descend upon the examiner “Anonymous Group”-style, I consider her assessment to have been entirely correct and fair. At that time I had no affinity for or understanding of the instrument or its medium. I pressed my fingers upon the keys in the prescribed order in a rough approximation of the right time and hoped for the best. And as the evidence attests, my best was apparently 77%.

The issue of standardized testing in music, of which this is an example of the voluntary kind, deserves its own blog post beyond the previous entry. Suffice to say for now I dispute neither the grade nor the process, both being like democracy the worst of all possible respective forms except all those already tried. But the grade itself interests me far less than the written assessment. The common theme running through the document is the overall timidity of the performance, the lack of presence, tone, and confidence. And truth be told, I wasn’t confident. I was incredibly nervous, at that time failing to appreciate the very nature of what it was music performance demanded.

It’s really quite a beard.

I’ve written about confidence in the past at length, and I won’t repeat myself on the subject, but this moment of nostalgia for the good bad worse old days of my life in music was prompted by a moment last week in Halifax. The orchestra dress rehearsal had just concluded, and I took some time to field questions from the schoolchildren who were in attendance to observe the process. While most of the inquiries focused on the extraordinarily abundant facial hair of the artist, the final, overwhelming, shouted, insistent request was that I perform on the piano still parked on stage.

I stopped playing piano for all intents and purposes about 20 years ago. Some of my piano teachers might argue I stopped a few years earlier than that. But as I sat down, feverishly attempting to recall something, anything to memory, I had a flashback to that mortifying moment of sitting down at an upright piano in a hotel room to play for the benefit and esteemed opinion of a single examiner imported from the other side of the country. The situation last week was exactly analogous, except here I was onstage at the largest music performance venue in Halifax, sitting down at a Steinway concert grand, about to perform for 200 very demanding young people – and feeling exactly (surprisingly, for a seasoned performer) the same.

Bach. Goldberg Variations. Aria. I pressed my fingers upon the keys in a reasonable facsimile of the prescribed order in a rough approximation of the right time. Timid, nervous, lacking presence, tone and confidence, bending my fingers to my will and that of Bach’s after decades of neglect. Notes failed to sound, and of those that did, not all were consonant with Bach’s intention, but I made it through. Where was this famed confidence that a life in music supposedly breeds?

Right where and when I needed it – when I moved from the microphone to the piano and sat before the 88 keys.

There are two kinds of confidence. The boundless, impractical, unreal kind which the very young espouse when they believe they can take over the world, when they believe they already possess the answers to whatever challenges lie ahead, no matter how wrong or deluded they are in reality, no matter how fate and life collude and conspire against them and their ambitions. It’s the kind of confidence that we celebrate in child, indulge in an adolescent, and bemoan in an adult, knowing that ill-informed or unjustified assurance is simply the pride before the very dangerous fall.

And then there’s the quiet, non-ostentatious confidence of self-efficacy, the self-awareness that we may not have all the answers, but that unknown or unfamiliar challenges may still be surmounted, that we have the tools to get ourselves through, and that a failure remains a possibility – but that it can be a healthy, helpful possibility, not a crushing, defeating, damaging one. This is the kind of confidence that motivates entrepreneurs through their failed startups, athletes through off-podium finishes, and a person like me from a mediocre but honourable attempt at piano 20 years ago to another mediocre but honourable attempt last week. But this time I wasn’t worried about “failing.” I wasn’t worried about anything, just curious about myself, and who I had become.

And I didn’t fail. I couldn’t, at that moment, unless I had declined to play at all. And they applauded me roundly, if only in recognition of the effort. There’s the confidence that deceives, and the confidence that supports, and a fine line between. Last week I understood and felt the difference.

And if I had to award myself a grade, I’d give myself, oh, say, 78%. This time I performed from memory.

 

In my previous entry I asserted that the state of Mississippi had removed fractions from its curriculum, and I offered a link for reference purposes. As anybody who clicked through and read the supporting web page must have realized, the statement was and remains patently false: despite coming from the generally reputable myth-busting site Snopes.com, the news article in the link becomes progressively more ridiculous, and is filed under the site’s “The Repository of Lost Legends” subsection. (Hats off to Eric Booth, the only person who contacted me about it.)

As a gesture it will certainly be misinterpreted, but the intention was never to troll my readership, only prove a point: it is a stunning indictment of the American education system that such a tale has any plausibility at all. And fact of the matter, in a nation where an Indiana state representative tried to legislate the value of pi as a rational number in 1897 (this is true); where the scientific validity of evolution is still hotly debated (yes, true); and where some educational activists do, really and honestly, advocate removing fractions from the curriculum, (read the article, it’s quite interesting) the idea does not strain credulity.

Case in point: at the Alberta Music Education Conference in Red Deer last weekend, I made reference to a development in Florida earlier this year in which only 27% (3/11ths) of fourth graders achieved the minimum passing grade of 4 out of 6 on the state standardized writing test. When I asked the delegates how they thought the state responded, the answer was never “by reinvesting in education” or “calling a public inquiry.” No, the response was immediate and instinctive: “they changed the passing grade.”

And that’s exactly what happened.

The Florida State School Board argued that given the passing rate of 81% (9/11ths) the previous year, the magnitude of the drop in 2012 reflected a deficiency in the test, rather than the teaching. Even if this explanation were accepted at face value, the issue remains extremely concerning – and it’s not limited to Florida. Standardized testing is controversial enough conceptually and philosophically, but now the purportedly straightforward mechanics have proven to be highly fallible as well. Yes, some form of measurement is essential, but what possible purpose could the act of measuring serve when conducted with a broken yardstick?

If you haven’t read Marshall Marcus’ excellent summary of the complexities but overriding necessity for evaluation in music education, you should. For my part, I agree with him entirely, having made some of the same points at different times in the past. But I can’t help shake the suspicion that the profession of music education, long having escaped the scourge of involuntary standardized testing, is now willfully and deliberately accelerating towards it. As an industry we were never without in voluntary form: the audition is the most prevalent example, but the competitive festival phenomenon is merely another incarnation, as are practical music examinations such as those offered by the Royal Conservatory of Music. The testing, such that it is, is undertaken for precisely the same purposes as well: to evaluate the current technical aptitude of the student (and by warped extension, the quality of the teacher), and to differentiate for the purposes of advocacy or self-promotion, primarily at the micro level.

The universal truth of a test, regardless of discipline, is that it can tell you the current level of competence of the taker within the narrow confines or scope permitted by the examination, but gives zero indication as to his or her potential. Testing twice, thrice or more isn’t the solution either, because Sistema is, at its best, a human developmental program. Comparison is essential, but comparison to what or whom? A collective baseline, a lowest common human denominator, or worse, the highest performers?

As a conductor, measured against Gustavo Dudamel, I am an abject failure. As a writer, measured against Henry James (one of my favourites) I am hopelessly inadequate. But I elect not to make these comparisons meaningful or relevant to me. I choose to be measured first against my wife’s expectations for a husband, thereafter my daughters’ expectations for a father, and lastly, in a fickle industry in which fame, financial success and excellence are not synonymous, by whether I hold the respect of those I respect myself. I may just have revealed myself to be professionally or artistically unambitious, but I still have lofty goals in areas of endeavour that are important to me, and I intend to achieve them. I measure myself primarily against my own perception of potential, I have also permitted selected others to define some of the parameters where our objectives overlap, and I pair their expectations with my own aspirations for internal guidance.

Measurement by any standards except those we accept is an imposition of values. Evaluation may be inevitable, but it is also inevitably incomplete, if not inaccurate, if not unjust. The idea may be utterly impractical and unworkable in reality, but allowing youth just once in their life the chance to choose how they will be assessed, to determine for themselves the standard to which each will be held individually, may be the most motivating, most empowering, most potential-defining moment they may ever have. How we choose to be evaluated may reveal as much, if not more, than any test ever could.

 

Too busy performing in Salvador, Brazil, to argue.

In September of this year, Iran’s Mehr News Agency reported an incident in which a Muslim cleric was viciously beaten by a young woman after he publicly berated her for what he deemed her immodest dress. As the story spread virally, the Internet erupted into virtual Schadenfreude over the poetic nature of the cleric’s comeuppance in a part of the world, going beyond the Islamic states, where the oppression of woman is institutionalized and often enforced through homicidal or sexually violent means. Even though a minority of commentators deplored the specific manner in which it was effected, the act was widely viewed as a bold assertion of basic human rights in the face of unjust laws.

Which invites the question: would these same commentators defend with equal fervour a young African-American male in Florida, or Arkansas, or Albany GA or Jackson MS who responded in the same manner to a citizen demanding he pull up his pants, in accordance with recently enacted state or civic ordinances? There are more similarities than differences between the real Iranian and hypothetical (for now) American scenarios: both involve long-oppressed demographics, targeted by discriminatory legislation. And as offensive as the sight of underpants may be to American (or Canadian, in my case) eyes, the sartorial statement of “saggy pants” clearly fails to meet the local legal definition of public indecency, or there would be no need for further statutes.

In case you are fortunate enough not to know what I’m talking about…

It’s a question of values, ultimately, but also the parameters we place on them. Our society imposes values, or demands adherence to particular social norms and expectations that may differ or even conflict with those of others living within it. Even if we attempt to find a respectful balance, no entente is ever possible that satisfies all parties: we accept conditions that may not be to our liking, such as taxation or gun control, in the interests of a communal social contract manifested primarily in the law.

But the process of distilling collective values is neither simple nor easy, and often becomes reactive and controversial, as the “saggy pants” issue shows. Strangely enough, the question of whether the sight of underpants in public is acceptable is in many ways symbolic of the most pressing social problem in modern American: it isn’t the plurality of existing values, but the ongoing efforts of what are essentially two major factions to impose their specific morals, often well-intentioned in their own right, on the remainder of the population through law. The fact that the words “under God” within the American Pledge of Allegiance remain hotly contested demonstrates just how sensitive the issues are in this nation.

This is why I grow extremely uncomfortable when I hear Sistema programs choosing to address so-called “social values” through conversation with students. It’s an extremely dangerous game to play, no matter how well-intentioned it may be. Discussion of concepts as ostensibly laudable as democratization, equality and consensus-building may run entirely counter to cultures or family traditions that demand unconditional respect for and obedience towards authority and the elderly. Even preaching a mantra of respect for the law can be problematic, since laws are clearly not always just – but conversely, advocating civil disobedience can be construed as sedition.

Beyond determining what, or rather, whose values to preach, the other pressing question is whether Sistema programs have any right at all to discuss values with students beyond those necessary for maintaining a productive teaching environment, or those that can be modeled unspoken within the ensemble setting. Even if the act of learning an instrument is morally neutral, as Sistema nay-sayer Toronyi-Lalic claims, the decision to teach music is itself one of moral significance: in deeming music a subject worthy of the expense and effort of instruction, we simultaneously ascribe to it a degree of human and social value exceeding that of many other disciplines. The justification for this act of what is essentially arrogance is that the same rationale underlies all public instruction in any subject, although the problematic nature of democratic validation is further demonstrated by the absence of fractions from the Mississippi state curriculum, or the inclusion of Creationism in the Kansas… and the omission of music from many others. Having professed one set of values by teaching music, is it necessary or even appropriate to verbalize others?

And finally, trumping any consideration of rights, moral authority, or social necessity, is the sheer treacherousness of the political waters to be navigated when teachers choose to talk about values. The longevity of the Fundación and its consistent level of popular and governmental support derives in part from its strictly non-denominational and politically-neutral stance – despite the fact that its founder is a man of profound faith, and that many governmental economic and social policies entirely undermine the organization’s mandate. While conceding that my sample is relatively small from a statistical perspective, I never once heard any teacher in any núcleo I visited lecturing the children about acting like a community. They focused on making music. Social action through music, not through talking.

And no one objects.