Ah, Vienna. Such a wedding cake. How gemütlich. So warm and cozy. But
when you look closer, you discover the tarnish beneath the charm. Consider Austria’s major
cultural export, the world-famous Vienna
Philharmonic, which performs later this month at Carnegie Hall under
the direction of Seiji Ozawa.
Seven years ago, after being criticized and pressured to change its hiring policy, the orchestra
said it would end its discrimination against women.
But today there are still just two non-harpist women in the ensemble: violist Ursula
Plaichinger, hired in 2001, and cellist Ursula Wex, hired in 2003. All the rest of the 149 orchestra members are men. And let’s not forget,
neither Plaichinger nor Wex are officially members of the Philharmonic. They must first complete
a three-year tenure at the Vienna State Opera.
At any rate, perhap a small grimace of congratulation is in order: The VPo also hired its first
person of color last year. In Vienna, that’s considered progress. After
all, the VPo has had a 162-year policy of “whites only” membership. But that naturally goes
unmentioned in the official narrative of the orchestra’s charming history,
which nevertheless manages to make sorrowful, clucking noises about its Nazi
past.
Come to think of it, Philip Kerr’s Berlin private eye Bernhard Gunther puts the
city’s charm itself in a certain perspective:
There’s nothing the Viennese love more than getting “cosy.” They look to
achieve this conviviality in bars and restaurants, to the accompanisment of a musical quartet
comprising a bass, a violin, an accordion and a zither. … For me, this omnipresent combination
embodies everything that was phoney about Vienna, like the syrupy sentiment and the affected
politeness. It did make me feel cosy. Only it was the kind of cosiness you might have experienced
after you had been embalmed, sealed in a lead-lined coffin, and tidily deposited in one of those
marble mausoleums up at the Central Cemetery.
Painting with a broad brush? Of course.
