Earlier today, at the German embassy, the Mayor of Leipzig and the Sheriff of the City of London formalised the Barbican’s partnership with the extraordinary 228-year-old institution that Masur headed up in the 1970s and 1980s, the Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra. They were also commemorating the events into which Masur as conductor of the orchestra was catapulted 10 years ago in the autumn of 1989.
In September of that year the small acts of civil disobediencee, initially organised by the Protestant church, against the East German Communist regime started to bloom. Over the course of the month, the Monday protests, held after the weekly “prayers for peace” in the Nikolaikirche – Bach’s church – grew more violent. For this profoundly musical community, the city of Bach, Mendelssohn and Schumann, Masur was the figurehead that they all looked up to and in early October he entered the fray.
It was often thought the Soviet Union would fall when the Berlin Wall fell; and the Berlin Wall would fall when Leipzig fell; and in Leipzig, the balance of power lay with Kurt Masur. “Many people trusted him,” explains Father Friedrich Magirius, then Dean of the Nikolaikirche, witness to and organiser of the protests. “He knew that the people thought that he was a special person. He knew that all the people expected him to react.”
“He was afraid that things would get out of hand,” adds Thomas Mayer, a journalist friend of Masur’s. “There were 70,000 people on one side and you had the armed forces and police on the other side. And remember this was the year of the Tiananmen Square massacres. So the ‘Chinese solution’ was in the minds of everyone.”
The churches opened their doors for shelter, while Masur organised a public meeting with a panel of politicians and non-politicians – which included a composer and Masur - in the orchestral hall on October 16. A photo of that meeting hangs on the embassy walls. Masur stands at the centre of proceedings, arms outstretched, mouth wide open, energy coursing through his body: “As he conducted the orchestra, he began to conduct this meeting,” explains Father Magirius who was on the panel with Masur.
It was at this meeting that the power began to shift as the protestors found their voice and began to clamour for change. Within a month the Wall had fallen and there were cries for Masur to be elected President. He fled the offer, becoming Chief Conductor of the New York Philharmonic in 1991 instead.
There are many musicians in the past who have fortified the soul, one way or another. Those who rallied the troops and civilians in the Second World War – on both sides - can be said to have contributed something. And composer Lt George Butterworth can’t be said to have shirked his responsibilities, having given his life at the Battle of the Somme in 1916, shortly after being recommended for the Military Cross.
But there is really only one musician who can claim to have brought down a political system and closed the door on a whole chapter in human history. It’s a strange irony that when the history of the music of the late 20th century is finally written, it is unlikely that there will be any mention of Kurt Masur the conductor, even in the footnotes. Yet, in the political annals he will be there, and these will remind us that Kurt Masur did more materially for the lives of others than any other musician, composer or conductor in history.
Under their Chief Conductor, Riccardo Chailly, the Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra perform at the Proms tonight, September 7, at 7.30pm.
Kurt Masur performs Mendelssohn’s Elijah with the London Philharmonic Orchestra on October 17, at 7.30pm.
