October 16, 2002

KIEV, UKRAINE , SEPT. 13, 2002 It is the second and final day of rehearsals for a concert titled "A Requiem Concert in Memory of the Events of September 11th," a demonstration of solidarity with the United States by the people of Ukraine. The National Opera House in Kiev is filled with discordant sounds. A French horn player boorishly clears his instrument. Three violinists compete with one another in a spontaneous recital of a Brahms violin concerto. The nearly 200 singers and musicians that crowd the stage speak half a dozen languages. The challenge of keeping them all together is not unlike the difficulties facing the country of Ukraine, a fledgling democracy that was once an insular Soviet state.

The concert indicates a strengthening of relations with the United States. It has also brought together diverse factions from within Ukraine, underscoring the country's ongoing effort to stay focused on maintaining a democratic, free-market system.

Vladomir Spivakov, conductor of the National Symphony Orchestra of Russia, has the task of transmitting all of these complex dynamics into seamless musical harmony. Sure-handedly, he exerts the kind of control over the orchestra that any politician would envy. He repeatedly stops the musicians, correcting the tempo here, emphasizing the syncopation there, always determined to convey the big picture. "I understand you are accustomed to playing it that way," he tells them, "but I want you to play it my way."

The appearance by Spivakov, a Russian, has particular significance for Ukrainians. Sixteen years ago, Spivakov commanded the same stage after two explosions blew the top off of the reactor at the Chernobyl power plant, located 70 miles north of Kiev. The explosions sent deadly radioactive material into the atmosphere at a level 100 times greater than the Hiroshima bomb. It is estimated that more than 15 million people were affected.

Now Spivakov was back at the National Opera House with an international cast of performers to express solidarity with the victims of another tragedy: the attacks on the United States on Sept. 11, 2001. The centerpiece of the tribute was Mozart's Requiem in D Minor, followed by the more joyful Nutcracker Suite, by Tchaikovsky. Both works enjoy enormous popularity and therefore also suffer from excessive familiarity. Spivakov was undaunted by the challenge of arranging a fresh interpretation in such a short amount of time. He says he finds something new every time he studies the score – besides which, "too many rehearsals kills some of the life."

The event was organized by ICTV, one of the leading national TV stations in Ukraine and Fakty, the country's widest circulating daily newspaper. Viktor Pinchuk, the owner of those enterprises and a Member of Parliament, conceived the idea for the concert. He said the international makeup of the cast was a symbol of "the global effect of 9/11," adding that the concert had particular importance for Ukrainian audiences, as it was organized with the blessings of the U.S. embassy "and broadcast nationwide for everyone's benefit."

Pinchuk's efforts were bolstered by the appearances of former U.S. president Bill Clinton and New York mayor Michael Bloomberg, who both made videotaped speeches. Clinton stressed that during his administration, "we were committed to building ties between our two countries. Now, more than ever, we share a unique understanding of the frailty of our common humanity."

Ukrainian president Leonid Kuchma and U.S. ambassador Carlos Pascual also spoke at the concert. Pascaul expressed his gratitude on behalf of the American people, saying Ukraine's expression of solidarity was part of "a new optimistic chapter in the history of the world." Kuchma pledged his support to the United States, comparing the present geopolitical situation to the Second World War, when the world was united against fascism. "Today the whole world is united against terrorism," he said. He then presented a gift to the American people, a painting by Ukrainian artist Alexander Postupniy titled, "Eyes of Christ," which depicts a face with two alarming, vividly colored eyes on the verge of tears. Spivakov, doubling in the role of solo violinist, stood beneath the solemn 10-foot mural and played a short, lyrical work, "Prayer," by Tomaso Albinoni.

The most touching moment came when a four-minute video of the Sept. 11 attacks was projected on a screen above the stage as the chorus and orchestra performed the "Lacrimosa" section of the Requiem. The painful images – freed from the numbing repetition of American television – in this context seemed at once tasteful and sincere. This was also where Spivakov's direction was the most inspired. He led the Academic Chorus of the National Opera of Ukraine at a controlled pianissimo level that was perfectly suited to the soft, ethereal beauty of Mozart's choral. Tamara Yakimenko, a mezzo-soprano in the chorus, said it was "hard to refrain from crying" when she sang the "Lacrimosa."

In addition to Requiem and works by Tchaikovsky, Alfred Schnittke, and the Armenian composer Karen Khachaturyan, a rollicking rendition of "Stars and Stripes Forever," by John Philip Sousa, rounded out a truly international program. (By all accounts, it was the first time this stirring bit of Americana had been heard in the National Opera House of Ukraine.) Spivakov, the most celebrated conductor in Russia today, was a stickler for perfection when it came to the Russian contribution. As he told the orchestra in rehearsal: "You are playing [Tchaikovsky] the way it is played by Americans. To them, piano is always piano. Forte is forte. That leaves no room for live dynamics."

It was surprising for some to see Spivakov with a graying head of hair. He is best remembered for his performance in Kiev as a young man after the Chernobyl disaster. Spivakov, who began his career as a concert violinist, had recently made his U.S. conducting debut to much acclaim. The handsome young virtuoso was regarded as a valuable cultural asset to the Soviet Union, and was therefore cautioned by Soviet authorities to cancel the concert for fear of radiation – a caution not given to ordinary citizens living in Ukraine at the time. Spivakov ignored the warnings, along with the advice of many friends in Russia, and went ahead with the performance. The audience stood up and wept openly, he recounted in an interview, since "someone was there for them."

Spivakov said the Chernobyl disaster gives Ukrainians a perspective on the events of Sept. 11, which in part explains the outpouring of sympathy Ukrainians have expressed after an event that, like Chernobyl, Spivakov called "a black spot in the face of humanity."

Hence the main themes that came out of the concert were the need for rebuilding and renewal and the desire to strengthen ties between the two countries. In fact, Ukraine has long been viewed by the United States as a key to the stability of Eurasia. It was from Ukraine that the Soviet Union staged attacks on Hungary and Czechoslovakia during the cold war, and in more recent history the country has fluctuated back and forth between European-American and Russian influence. According to former secretary of state Henry Kissinger (as quoted in Yuri Shcherbak's The Strategic Role of Ukraine), it is a vital American interest that the region not be "controlled by a single power center. In essence we have fought two world wars over this issue."

Ukraine is now the third largest recipient of U.S. foreign aid and could be a candidate to join the European Union and NATO within the next 10 years. This represents a sea change for the policies of both countries. When Ukraine was moving toward independence in 1991, President George H.W. Bush delivered his so-called Chicken Kiev speech, in which he discouraged revolt by Soviet Republics against Moscow's authority, labeling such a course "suicidal nationalism." And yet, the interests of nation-building took priority under Ukraine's first president, Leonid Kravchuk, at the expense of market reform. Inflation soared to 5,371 percent (or 10,000 percent, by different calculations) in 1993. In 1996, after President Leonid Kuchma (elected in 1994, reelected in 1999) introduced his reform program, inflation dropped to a more manageable 40 percent, and it has stayed well below that level ever since.

In fact, there is an unmistakable feeling of progress among Ukrainians today, even though western eyes often underestimate the country's difficulties. Kiev, the capital, is a city literally under renovation. The Golden Gate – the legendary entrance to the city that dates back to the 11th century – is surrounded in scaffolding. Massive cranes stand out against the golden domes of the city's famous baroque cathedrals. This is a positive sign to Kievites, as it is evidence of progress, and that which enables progress: investment.

On the other hand, much of the architecture is a reminder of past misrule. Next to Parliament sits the Mariinsky Palace, an ostentatious palace built for Catherine the Great of Russia, who only deigned to visit Kiev once during her imperial reign. The city is also dotted with pretentious structures from the Soviet era. Through the vista of the gigantic "Friendship Arch," a monument commemorating the humiliating Treaty of Pereiaslav that Ukraine signed with Russia in 1654, one glimpses the "boxes," the sterile, postwar tenement buildings on the left bank of the Kniepe River. A statue of Lenin remains on Kreshchatk Street for what my interpreter Dmitri termed its "historical value."

Indeed, these imperial remnants underscore, in the most dramatic sense, the difficult process of democratization Ukraine has undergone since gaining its independence in 1991. Ukraine was the last Soviet successor state to adopt a new constitution, which it finally did under President Kuchma in 1996. In recent weeks political stability was threatened by an opposition faction led by former prime minister Viktor Yushchenko, a darling of certain U.S. interests that have meddled in Ukrainian affairs, including the billionaire philanthropist George Soros. Despite a strong showing at a recent rally in Kiev, Yushchenko conceded he lacked support to wrest power from Kuchma: "It's one thing to want," he said. "It's another to have the legal capability to achieve it."

On the other hand, Ukraine has surprised a lot of western skeptics who never thought it would get this far this soon. As Andrew Wilson, lecturer at University College, London, observes in his book, The Ukrainians: Unexpected Nation, Ukraine achieved the kind of peaceful transfer of power in 1994 "that Russian elites never seriously contemplated in 1996."

According to Spivakov, Ukraine "can develop even more if there weren't so many small parties who don't try to make Ukraine better but just try to have power." (Ukraine has, up until recently, had 130 different parties in its Parliament.) In fact, the major challenge to Ukraine's national unity has long been its incredible regional and ethnic diversity, which is not always readily apparent to foreign observers. (Kievites will insist that no two bowls of borsch are alike, even though the same ingredients may be used.)

Yet Spivakov pointed to music as something that fosters unity, both nationally and internationally. "We need to defend this music too," he said. Spivakov said his outreach to the international community was reflected in his selection of soloists for Requiem, who were from America (the soprano Janice Chandler), France (alto Elsa Maurus), South Korea (tenor Robert Lee), and Canada (bass Desmonde Byrne). The Academic Chorus of the National Opera of Ukraine was under the direction of Lev Venediktov.

In thanking President Kuchma and the people of Ukraine, Clinton declared, "Let this concert be a celebration of the unbreakable human spirit we share and of the goodwill that binds us." Spivakov took him up on that with all his characteristic vigor during his direction of Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker Suite. Spivakov said this music was particularly appropriate because it represents a fairy tale. "Our hope is that people will have a relationship with each other like children," he said. "Children don't see each other's nationality."

Chandler, who lives in Baltimore, said Spivakov was able to get the musicians to respond to his directions because of his sensitivity. Despite the conductor's unrelenting demands for technical perfection, she said, "he's trying to get you to collaborate with him." This made her comfortable, even though she said, "I'm a go-with-the-flow kind of singer." For her part, she sang with great focus and control, and her performance clearly won over the audience.

Svetlana Stelmakh, a Kiev woman who attended the concert, sounded a common theme when she said that Americans and Ukrainians should spend more such evenings together, but added, "next time I hope it will be under better circumstances."