Guest opinion: ‘Silent Night’ and the power of art to see humanity in war

Utah Opera will perform the 2012 Pulitzer Prize-winning opera “Silent Night” Jan. 18-26 at the Capitol Theatre. Kathleen Sykes, Utah Opera | Kathleen Sykes/Utah Opera

On the morning of Jan. 8, I sat in one of my graduate program classes, paying attention not to the lecture but to my laptop and a live feed from the White House. Hours before, Iranian ballistic missile strikes had injured American personnel stationed in Iraq, and the whole world now waited for President Donald Trump’s official response.

Two simple choices seemed open to the president: escalation or de-escalation. Thankfully, he announced the latter, saying that Iran appeared to be “standing down” and announcing only economic sanctions as retaliation. Relieved, I took out my earphones, turned to a friend, and said, “No war today.”

“The day’s not over yet,” he quipped.

Gratefully, relations with Iran have returned to their typical state of predictable discourtesy. Internet commentary to the contrary, the U.S.-Iran spat probably lacked the potential to balloon into a third world war. Nevertheless, it made me realize that today’s geopolitical moment shares undeniably eerie similarities with the situation prior to the First World War: major powers competing for influence in a volatile region torn by decades of ethnic, political and religious conflict; fears of superweapon proliferation and an arms race; lingering resentment over past conflicts; and leaders painted into corners by their own xenophobic rhetoric.

Perhaps it’s not a coincidence, then, that artistic representations of WWI seem to be looming large in today’s culture. Of particular note to Utahns this week is Utah Opera’s production of Puts’ and Campbell’s opera “Silent Night,” an award-winning portrayal of the famous Christmas Truce of 1914.

In the opera, French, German, and British soldiers on the Western Front warily seek a ceasefire on Christmas Eve and end up playing soccer, singing carols, eating and sharing communion together. This touching tale of camaraderie is a sharp contrast to the dehumanizing rhetoric and slaughter depicted throughout the rest of the show.

“Silent Night” is by far the best opera, and perhaps the best artistic work, I’ve ever seen. Its excellence stems less from its music than from the story it tells, which prompted me to consider the tragedy, true cost and basic silliness of war. WWI killed more than 20 million people, a mind-boggling number that defies comprehension. “Silent Night” transforms those deaths from mere tally marks to tragedies in their own right as the soldiers realize that the man wearing the enemy uniform is a husband or father, son or brother — one with whom they could more easily play soccer and swap family stories than kill.

Kathleen Sykes/Utah Opera

While patriotic fervor inspires some of the characters to enlist at the beginning of the show, it soon becomes clear that most soldiers aren’t really fighting for “the Fatherland” but for the men in charge who compel them to fight. “I didn’t volunteer,” declares one German character. “I was conscripted like everyone else.”

Later, upon learning of the truce, a chorus of outraged officers from all three sides proclaims, “Despicable! Cowardice! Treason!” As punishment for the crime of “fraternization” (read: recognizing the basic humanity of the enemy), the officers redeploy the troops to other theaters. They obey reluctantly, shipping off to continue the work of killing — instigated by only a few but devastating to many.

I’ve never considered myself to be a pacifist. Indeed, unconditional pacifism allows the few truly evil individuals in the world free rein to deprive others of their rights of life, liberty, property and national self-determination. However, “Silent Night” moved me closer to the pacifist point of view than I ever thought possible. When next the drums of war and the rhetoric of jingoism sound — as surely they will — we would do well to consider the true horror and cost of conflict as so excellently conveyed by “Silent Night.” Every life matters. Every death is a tragedy. Remembering that should turn deadly force into a true last resort and make our society think long and hard about committing to war.

Like the best works of art, “Silent Night” depicts and provokes emotion, compassion and reflection on morality and what it means to be human. I feel privileged to have seen it. To echo the final refrain of a British soldier exiting the stage, “It was the most amazing experience. I will never forget it in my life.”

Matt Hurst is a Master of Public Administration candidate at Brigham Young University.

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