A reflection by Sydney Sobel, artist and facilitator
“The Cairo Congress of Arab Music in 1932 brought together musicians and musicologists from
across the post-Ottoman world and involved the participation of eminent Western composers,
orientalists and musicologists. Its underlying aim was to share ‘best practice’ in performance,
pedagogy and research, to unify and connect.” ~ Beyond 1932 Research Team
When I first read the title “The (De)Colonial Legacy of the 1932 Cairo Congress” I was curious. It was my first time hearing about this historical occurrence and when I asked my Lebanese mother and Jewish father about it, they had also never encountered it. After briefly looking into the event that had taken place nearly 100 years ago, I was shocked. It felt so related to the Nahda art movement that I have been slowly researching and yet I had never encountered any mention of the Congress in my research. Much of my artistic practice centres around the cultural loss that my family and I face as Americans whose ancestors were forced to abandon our culture for the sake of assimilation. Events that reintroduce me to my culture’s history are often a murky combination of exciting, healing, and a space to grieve. Culture and tradition are meant to be shared by people, with all the passion, personal opinions and attachments that imbed culture deep into our bones. So, with the chance to connect my research into Arab art with music, I eagerly booked a ticket.
The event was a panel discussion organised and hosted by the research team “Beyond 1932: Rethinking Musical Modernity in the Middle East and North Africa” out of Kings College London. The host, Rim Irschied, and the panellists – Tarek Bashir, Hazem Jamjoum, Kamilya Jubran, and Gülçin Özkişi – were expert musicians, researchers, and historians. The outcome was a dynamic interdisciplinary conversation that untangled the varying political, cultural, and artistic influences of the Cairo Congress and the resulting effect it has on contemporary Arab music. Hazem Jamjoum started us off with a brief summary of the politics surrounding Egypt at the time. In 1932, Egypt was still a Monarchical society with Fuad Ⅰ as King. He wished to be seen as the “caretaker” of cultural assets in the Arab world, including art and music. With western and eastern music beginning to influence each other, Fuad Ⅰ had the desire to document and host active conversations about the past and future of Arabic music.
Much of the music recorded was selected due to it being “purely” Arabic and free from western influence: an attempt to preserve the history of music before it was too late. It would be something to share with later generations and to look back on with both nostalgia and pride. However, different countries had different perspectives on Arabic music and the politics that surrounded it. Syria wished to continue playing with the influences of the Ottoman Empire rather than transition to a European style and Gülçin Özkişi discussed how Turkey was “intellectually present, but institutionally absent” as they were prioritising their European culture after the fall of the Ottoman Empire. The congress was plagued with political tensions as is often the case with international cultural events.
Politics also heavily influenced who was invited to perform and the songs chosen. Tarek Bashir brought forth his confusion as to why the Muwashshahat that were recorded were not the most iconic of the time. Debate broke out on the reasoning behind the song choices made and whether it was for unknown political reasons or with the goal of highlighting lesser known works. No matter the reasoning, Bashir believes these to be some of the only authentic muwashshahat recordings in the Egyptian style.
When it came to whether the 1932 Cairo Congress influenced contemporary Arabic music, Kamilya Jubran believes it did not. The recordings were hard to find in the public record for the better part of 100 years; unless people sought it out, they would have never come across the information preserved by and of this event. We are incredibly fortunate to have these recordings, but music had already evolved when they began to circulate more prolifically.
The conversation ended on an anticipatory note of the possible unfound recordings from Arab musicians around the world – such as music by the Yemeni population in South East Asia and the Arab diaspora in Latin America – and the exciting research that would follow their discovery. The panel covered quite a bit of ground in the hour and a half that it took place and I found myself sitting with the information for a few days. The conversation had felt alive in a way that academics often fail to achieve when discussing Arabic culture in the west. I came to realise that it was one of the first times that I had seen disagreements or contradicting views and nobody had a sense of prejudice when talking about Arabic culture in a western academic setting. In the past, there had either been a continual sliver of imperialism that had infected the research or a sterile and simplistic view that was devoid of emotion. These always leave me frustrated and yearning for the personal touch that brings history to life. But here, there was a buzz in my body as I left the room. The event was filled with vibrant curiosity and passion that was infused into each sentence that the panellists uttered. I have since listened to my first muwashshah and deeply enjoyed it.
Whether the 1932 Cairo Congress was a shift for or against western colonialism within Arabic music I cannot say for certain, but it does continue to act as a space where we can discuss the past, present, and future of Arabic music with excitement. Thank you to the team, host, and panellists who made this event possible and for reintroducing me to the music that shaped my family’s history. I encourage everyone to look into this team’s fascinating, emotional, and dynamic research. I have linked their website below.
