Zubin’s boycott
When Zubin Mehta returns to conduct the Israel Philharmonic Orchestra, the sense of occasion is palpable. The orchestra, notorious for a typically Israeli lack of decorum, is silent and attentive during rehearsals. Some older members who might normally come in jeans and a T-shirt put on jackets and leather shoes. When the nearly nonagenarian, largely deaf maestro hobbles onto the stage with his walking stick, the orchestra rises and applauds respectfully. It’s an ovation afforded to no other conductor. It is the result of an unprecedented 65-year musical collaboration, of which he spent 50 years as musical director. Zubin Mehta is in the IPO’s DNA; he is inseparable from classical music culture in Israel.
Mehta, the international legend of conducting, has a history of dropping everything and rushing to Israel. In June 1967, he boarded the last available flight from Europe and conducted the IPO for troops in Jerusalem. In 1973, as the country was being pounded on all sides, he again performed for IDF soldiers. In 1991, after Saddam Hussein began firing Scud missiles at Israel, Mehta cancelled his other engagements, flew to Israel, and stood with his orchestra. A photo hangs in the green room of the IPO’s Tel Aviv concert hall showing Mehta and the orchestra performing in gas masks. Since the October 7 war, I have performed with Mehta and the IPO twice, once in Israel and once on tour in Bucharest. Each time, Mehta began the first rehearsal with an impassioned speech about his affection for the country and how sad the current situation makes him. Which is why his recent announcement that he will boycott the orchestra comes as not only a shock, but a deep betrayal.
The announcement was made in an interview on Indian TV last week. Mehta discussed his relationship with the IPO, his hatred of antisemitism — and then came the bombshell: given the current right-wing Netanyahu government and its treatment of the Palestinian issue, he has decided to boycott the orchestra. On one level this is understandable. This 89-year-old man is dismayed, probably angry, at seeing the country to which he has given much of his life falling further into a hardline morass. So am I. But his response is the wrong one. It is simplistic, counterproductive, and hypocritical. It has also profoundly wounded the Israeli musical community.
I say simplistic because Mehta’s decision overlooks the complexity of this country and paints a cartoonish caricature of the situation. As it happens, I agree that the current Israeli coalition is shameful, shortsighted, and tinged with zealots and fascists. But as I read the news, I happened to be standing in Hostages Square, surrounded by activists calling for the release of the remaining hostage. Each weekend, I and tens of thousands of others attend anti-government protests, as we have for three years. Is this not also Israel? Are these liberal, dedicated citizens not part of this country’s fabric? Is Israel not also its free press, rights organizations, culture of political satire, and Supreme Court? Is Israel not also Tel Aviv, with its tolerance and modernity? Mehta’s decision defines Israel by its government and, in doing so, erases so much of what is good.
His decision is counterproductive because it punishes the people Mehta should be standing with and rewards those he seeks to sideline. The Philharmonic exists as a bubble within a bubble. Tel Aviv is itself a bastion of liberal Israel — young, modern, progressive, wealthy, cosmopolitan, secular — and the IPO audience is all these things to an even greater degree (other than young). The only people who suffer are the ones most likely to agree with his political views. The makeup of the Knesset would look very different if the IPO audience were the country’s electoral base. Meanwhile, far-right commentators eager to highlight global antipathy toward Israel have been given fresh ammunition. As cultural isolation tightens, people understandably entrench themselves in rejectionist, defensive postures. Cultural boycotts of Israel are, almost without exception, harmful.
Zubin Mehta made his declaration from India, where he is currently on tour with the Belgrade Philharmonic. He appears unfazed by the Modi government’s increasing Hindu nationalism and marginalization of Muslims and Sikhs. He lives and performs regularly in the United States and is conductor emeritus of the LA Philharmonic. Mehta appears to overlook the Trump government’s blatant corruption and violation of civil liberties, including sending National Guard troops into his own hometown. When describing the highlights of his career, Mehta often cites a 1998 performance of Turandot in Beijing’s Forbidden City. Perhaps he didn’t notice the gigantic portrait of Mao, whose regime killed tens of millions, looming at the entrance. He apparently does not care about the current internment of millions of Uyghurs in Chinese “re-education camps,” as he continues to perform in China. I assume I do not need to belabor the point with further examples. Mehta’s decision is in keeping with a long tradition of double standards levelled at the Jewish state.
Maestro Mehta’s 65-year relationship with Israel entitles him to criticize the country as fiercely as he likes. But there are smart, meaningful ways of doing this, and there are cheap, unhelpful ones. Criticism is not the betrayal — absence is. Mehta could have kept his engagements, flown to Israel, and offered the same critique in an interview with an Israeli journalist. He could have stood on stage beside colleagues — some of whom have been friends for 40 years — and delivered a stinging critique to a largely receptive audience. Instead, he delivered that criticism in a way seen by his audience and friends as a betrayal, and by the country more broadly as an act of chutzpah.
