
I wonder what’s on Bibi’s playlist. I doubt it's Paloma Faith, or Lorde or Björk for that matter. Can he even pronounce all their names? He might be partial to a bit of Paul Weller - more his era – or even sometimes catches himself humming along to The Psychotic Monks (What do you mean, you haven’t heard of them?)
But not for much longer, as all the above have joined a 1,000-strong group of musicians preventing their music from being streamed in Israel - or geo-blocking it - in their “No Music For Genocide” campaign.
Apart from enabling this bunch of musicians to feel even more self-righteous than they already do, I personally fail to see the point of it.
Call me out if I am wrong, but after the worst terrorist attack in Israel’s history, two years of horrendous fighting, months – nay, years - of negotiations to finally bring home the hostages (many of whom were tragically no longer alive) and reach a precarious ceasefire deal, (which seems to be teetering on the verge of collapse), I doubt being denied access to Paloma Faith’s latest album will be the missing trick needed for Bibi to have more sympathy for the plight of Gazans.
Nor do I think that the people of Gaza, many of whom are bracing themselves for another winter without a roof over their head, will feel better in the knowledge that a bunch of popstars are letting them listen to their music, while those living just across the border can’t. I have a feeling that most Gazans have other priorities right now.
Granted, the activists are releasing a reimagined version of a Palestinian song in a bid to reach the Christman No.1 slot and raise money for humanitarian aid for Gaza. But in using music - the only weapon at their disposal - to make a point, they just aren’t making the right one.
The beauty of music is its power to transcend divisions, rather than make these gulfs wider. Words carried on music can penetrate our emotions far more than words alone. As the late Chief Rabbi, Lord Jonathan Sacks, so eloquently put it: “Words are the language of the mind. Music is the language of the soul.”
Yet, these musicians have chosen the path of divisiveness – to continue sympathising with one group, while collectively demonising another: Israelis, whose political opinions they know nothing about.
Take Dudu Tassa, whose album with Radiohead’s Jonny Greenwood, Jarak Qaribak, (meaning “Your neighbour is your friend” in Arabic), features vocals from Nour Freteikh, a singer from Ramallah. (FYI, Tassa and Greenwood’s UK dates were cancelled earlier this year. Their crime? Being/working with an Israeli – and having the chutzpah to sing for peace.)
And how about the charity, the New Israel Fund? NIF supports hundreds of NGOs in striving to support the human rights of Israelis, Palestinians and all of Israel’s inhabitants. Only last month, its UK branch held their annual human rights awards ceremony, hosted by Palestinian Israeli singer-songwriter Mira Awad, who frequently collaborates with Israeli singer – and fellow peacenik - Noa.
These musicians have chosen the path of divisiveness – to continue to sympathise with one group, while collectively demonising another
So, no, I doubt that any of these campaigners have considered the courageous work done by Tassa and Noa, together with Freteikh and Awad and countless NGOs, as that would mean humanising Israelis. And this would be terribly unhelpful for their campaign against “genocide” - and their bid to reach No.1 in time for a turkey lunch. Who has time for nuance when it’s far simpler – and better for clicks - to continue looking at the situation through the naively simplistic lens of good versus evil?
But what a missed opportunity. Think of those wonderful peace anthems – Lennon’s Give Peace a Chance and Dylan’s Blowin’ in the Wind, both inspired by the anti-Vietnam War movement. They were speaking to a collective desire for peace. Paloma, Lorde, Weller et al - believe it or not - that’s what Israelis want too.
Think of the dialogue that could have been created. With dialogue, hopelessness turns into hope, and enemies – even if they can’t become friends – can at least start recognising the pain of the other.
Instead, these musicians have resorted to playground bullying tactics – not actively throwing punches but using cold-shouldering and exclusion. By presenting Israelis with nothing but a wall of silence – and ironically preventing them from hearing their own song, which aims to highlight the plight of the Gazan people - they leave them feeling stranded and isolated. And so, the cycle of hate and division continues.
Tomorrow, the fate of Israel at the Eurovision Song Contest will be decided. Those taking a vote would be wise to spend just five minutes looking at Israel’s back catalogue of entries, especially 2009, when Mira Awad and Noa performed There must be another way – sung in Hebrew, Arabic and English.
The vision of the two women – one Israeli, the other Palestinian Israeli – standing on the stage together was as powerful as the lyrics themselves: “And when I cry, I cry for both of us.”
The conflict between Israelis and Palestinians sometimes feels utterly intractable. Both Israelis and Gazans are weary and want a different future for themselves and their children, where war isn’t the answer. As the song suggests, there must be another way. But turning off your music or singing only for some of those who are suffering just isn’t it.
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