Letter from Rome Paddy Agnew In Rome these days, as in just about every other major city in the world, it is hard to get away from the war in Iraq.
Leaving aside the inevitably massive media coverage of the conflict, it gets difficult to avoid the issue even for the (admittedly rare) Roman citizen who might choose to buy no newspaper, watch no television, not surf the web and not listen to the radio.
Just step outisde your door in Rome and the war debate is there on the street. Peace flags flutter on many private dwellings; political protest demonstrations, which are a regular and often frustrating aspect of daily life in the Italian capital, nowadays almost inevitably end up as peace marches; the walls of the city are plastered with announcements of public meetings, for or against the war; young folk, and some not so young, have taken to wearing a scarf or badge bearing the peace movement's rainbow colours.
On Monday night of this week even one of Italy's most celebrated sons, conductor Ricardo Muti, found himself caught up in the debate. In his role as Music Director of the celebrated La Scala Opera House in Milan, Muti had been invited to give a concert at Rome's La Sapienza University, a concert held to mark the university's 700th anniversary and titled "Concert Dedicated to Peace".
Perhaps irked by the fact that this was an invitation-only event, attended by some notable shakers and makers such as seven times ex-prime minister Giulio Andreotti and current cabinet under-secretary Gianni Letta, the students stormed the concert venue, namely the university's "aula magna".
The students said that they wished to highlight the "hypocrisy of this university which on the one hand organises a peace concert but on the other signs agreements not only for military training, but also with banks which profit by arms trafficking and with electronics companies doing research into ever more sophisticated combat systems".
When protesting students came into direct confrontation with a police security cordon outside the aula magna, someone had the good sense not to block them, letting them into the hall and thus avoiding an outbreak of fisticuffs which would hardly have reflected well on a concert "dedicated to peace".
Once inside the hall, the noisy students, complete with megaphone and under the glare of live TV coverage, continued their protest.
Two banners, one reading "No Peace, No Party" and the other "Military Zone", were run up, one of them being displayed on the stage behind the musicians of La Scala Filarmonica, already on stage and quietly waiting.
Even as various functionaries were busy working their cell phones, trying to decide just what to do next, calm and silence were dramatically restored by Ricardo Muti himself. Moving centre stage, he asked for a microphone.
Speaking directly to the students and acknowledging the validity of their concerns, he said simply: "We're not here for a celebration. There's nothing to celebrate in today's world other than people's pain. The music we're about to play was written by Mozart, and no one has ever given voice to pain and sorrow better than Mozart." Muti went on to point out how he and the musicians of La Scala Filarmonica had already travelled the world, sometimes at serious personal risk, taking music's message of peace to troubled spots such as Sarajevo (1997), Beirut (1998), Jerusalem (1999), Moscow (2000), Yerevan (2001), Istanbul (2001), and lastly to New York (2002), in the wake of the Twin Towers attacks.
Speaking of the extreme difficulties he himself encounters daily, trying to promote music in the "cultural climate" of today (and not just in Italy), Muti concluded simply: "Now, if you like, we will play for you. Otherwise, we'll pack up and go back to La Scala."
His words were greeted with a warm round of applause and almost immediately Mozart's Gran Partita (K361) for wind ensemble filled the aula magna. The uninvited, protesting students remained, sitting on the floor in front of the audience. Only when the lengthy Gran Partita was finished did the students finally abanadon the hall - during the interval.
Ricardo Muti, a Knight of the British Empire, a Cavaliere di Gran Croce della Repubblica Italiana, a conductor who works regularly with the world's greatest orchestras, including the Vienna Philharmonic, the New York Philharmonic, the Orchestre Nationale de France and the Berlin Philharmonic, had just shown himself to be something more than a famous musical celebrity. He had proven himself to be a remarkably persuasive teacher, ready to listen, open to dialogue, capable of convincing thanks to the sheer moral force of his words.
In short, Ricardo Muti is a true "Maestro".