For the past couple of weeks, I’ve been glued to Katherine Needleman’s Facebook page. In the wake of the NY Philharmonic’s sexual assault scandal, Needleman – a top US-based oboist – has become a kind of clearing-house for testimonies of abuse in the classical music and music education sectors. (See here for my earlier reflections on the original scandal and social action through music.) The quantity of evidence is overwhelming, and Needleman is not even publishing everything she receives – and what she receives is undoubtedly the tip of an iceberg. It makes for grim but necessary reading for anyone with a serious interest in this field from a social perspective.

Only a small minority of classical musicians are sexual predators or harassers, so how big really is this problem? The way I see it, on the basis of what I’m reading but also my own research over many years, is that there are three concentric circles: in the middle, an inner circle of sexual predation and harassment. Around it, a wider culture of abuse of various kinds (bullying, shouting, belittling, ostracism, etc.), of which the inner circle is a subset. Both are manifestations of abuse of power. And around them lies an outer circle: the “culture of complicity” (about which I wrote in my previous post). Many of those in the outer circle may be good people in many ways; some individuals may even resist what takes place in the inner two circles. But for such issues to be so pervasive for so long, the culture as a whole has to play along: conservatoires sweep complaints under the rug so as not to upset famous teachers; festivals invite known sexual predators because they bring in audiences; young women are advised not to spend time alone with male musicians known to be “handsy,” rather anything being done about the offending behaviour; open secrets sit there for decades without influential figures resolving to tackle them; erratic, unprofessional, or authoritarian behaviour is treated as an excusable side effect of great artistry.

Audiences form part of this culture of complicity. If they boycotted concerts featuring known predators, change would happen pretty quickly. Not doing so confirms the sector’s unwritten rule: all that matters is how good it sounds.

A lot of the discussion on Needleman’s page has been, indirectly, about the culture of complicity. Men are particularly implicated, of course: all those who stand by and passively accept or play along with the misogynistic culture, whether or not they are actively involved themselves. But it seems that plenty of women, too, have played a part, for example taking a “well, I’ve never experienced sexual harassment” line, rather than supporting the many who have and seeking change. When we take this culture of complicity into account, and not just the perpetrators, the problem looks very big.

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What does it mean to pursue social justice through music – or more precisely, through orchestral music? For El Sistema and the international field that has built up around it, the answer is: to give socio-economically disadvantaged youths access to the orchestral world, via education or training. Access is the key word here.

The problem here is not hard to spot. How does it constitute social justice to give young people access to a world that is riddled with injustices? How are these young people going to fare in a system marked by extreme power imbalances and resultant abuses? If the system stays the same and just the faces change, how much justice is really enacted?

There is no reason to think that the gender injustices that are legion in this field are going to be reduced by a shift in socio-economic representation. Just look at El Sistema, where widening access has gone hand in hand with stark gender inequity and pervasive sexual abuse and harassment.

If the orchestral sector is serious about pursuing social justice, it ought to start by turning its gaze inward and putting its own house in order. The idea that orchestras provide a model for society and a school for citizenship looks untenable in the cold light of the testimonies of the last two weeks, and the fact that it has got so much traction speaks volumes about the sector’s willingness to overlook jarring contradictions. How could an organization that systematically marginalizes women be held up as a model of social inclusion for the world? How could a culture of complicity wrapped round a culture of abuse be considered an engine of social justice?

The first step to pursuing social justice through music is to pursue social justice in music. To acknowledge that the music sector has a big problem, and to determine to do something about it. Katherine Needleman (and those supporting her, like Lara St John and Anne Midgette) is showing what this looks like. It’s not about airy statements about the power of music. It’s not about generating marketing copy and boosting your brand. It’s about sticking your neck out and telling uncomfortable truths. It’s about challenging the culture of complicity, not reinforcing it by idealizing the orchestra as a “model for society.” It’s about this quote from John Lewis, with a big h/t to another inspiring musical figure, André de Quadros:

Rosa Parks inspired us to get in trouble. And I’ve been getting in trouble ever since. She inspired us to find a way, to get in the way, to get in what I call good trouble, necessary trouble… if you see something that is not right, not fair, not just, do something. We cannot afford to be quiet.

Here’s to Katherine Needleman and all those who are causing good trouble, necessary trouble.