Freedom to be

In 1932, a number of musicians, composers, and critics gathered in Cairo for an International Conference on Arab Music. You can probably imagine the general scene - cups of tea; men in ties - but it may surprise you to learn that one of the major themes of the conference involved the proper relationship between Arab and Western musical traditions. Some attendees listened to a formal discussion of the complexities inherent in Arab ensembles adopting the violincello and string bass. “Can the maqamat be harmonized?” asked a separate session. And another: "Should Arab music abolish quartertones?"

At the heart of such questions, of course, was an even larger issue: the relationship between two cultures. At a time when Egypt was controlled by the British, the embrace of Western musical tradition was more than a mere aesthetic choice; it was a political gesture. But not necessarily in the way you might think - for many Egyptians, in fact, saw their right to draw on a wide variety of traditions as a basically desireable freedom, while some British wanted Egypt to remain true to what they saw as a timeless authenticity. Thus, as Virginia Danielson has observed, “the willingness of some Egyptian delegates to adopt European musical practices alarmed a number of Europeans who advocated ‘preservation’ of the indigenous heritage, which attitude, in turn, outraged those Egyptians who saw Westernization as the path to cultural accomplishment….” In short, Egyptians sought the right to be members of the global community, while some British wanted Egyptians to - well, to remain Egyptian, as they thought of the word.

At the risk of stretching an analogy (a risk I've taken many times before on this blog!), might I suggest that a similar tension underlies much of parenting? One of our goals, as parents, is to socialize our children: to teach them basic manners and graces; to show them how to share; to let them know that, no, they can't wear pajamas wherever they'd like. In that sense, we are like a modernizing colonialist force: we impose a certain sort of civilization upon our wards. But at the same time, don't we wish, too, on some level, that they'll always remain the same? That Cleo will always respond, with shrieking giggles, to tickling, and that she will always announce, with a cool authority, that her monkey has 'no poopies' this morning? And when we do, we're the British, wishing romantically that the Egyptians will continue to play their familiar, timeless melodies. But it's a losing battle: Umm Kulthum and her songwriters will learn from Western precedents, and Cleo keeps listening to us, and keeps speaking in more and more adult patterns. She wants the right - as most do, I suppose - to be herself and to emulate others. She wants, like Egyptians in 1932, to be free.

So we try to enjoy Cleo in the present. The British were forced out of Egypt in 1952. Similarly, in 20 years Cleo will probably greet any attempt at tickling with a crisp "like, quit it, Dad," and an immediate complaint on whatever the 2031 equivalent of Twitter is. She'll still be Cleo, and she'll still be my girl, but she'll have learned from many, many others, as well.