The Sydney Opera House, one of the most iconic structures in Australia (and possibly the world) turned 50 earlier this year. Officially opened in 1973, the story of its architectural design and construction involves labyrinthine intrigues, vitriolic conflict and multiple political clashes. Sixteen years in the making since it was first proposed, (Utzon won the design competition in 1957), it is remarkable that the Opera House was completed, given all the snarling controversy over its design and excessive budgetary strain.

Gradually becoming known as the ‘People’s House’, there is more to the story than just the controversies over its unique architectural design and construction. In 1960, Paul Robeson performed for audiences while the opera house was still being built. Invited by the construction workers, Robeson had been targeted by a McCarthyite campaign of exclusion and blacklisting by the American authorities. This was Robeson’s first world tour since the reinstatement of his passport.

In 1990, soon after his release from a South African prison, Nelson Mandela addressed thousands of cheering supporters from the steps of the opera house. In 2003, anti war protesters scaled the heights of the building to paint ‘No War’ on its side. This slogan denounced the American led (and Australian supported) invasion of Iraq.

Lyndal Rowlands, writing in Al Jazeera, notes a particular irony:

And while the Sydney Opera House may be known as “the people’s house,” Sydney itself has become one of the most expensive places to live in the world.

The creeping commercialisation of property and real estate – it could now be considered rampant – has impacted the opera house as well. In 2018, former Australian prime minister Scott Morrison, indicating where his priorities reside, suggested advertising the Everest Cup, a horse race, on the Opera House building. Defending his decision, Morrison offered the pathetic excuse “it’s not like they are painting it up there.”

Let’s leave aside the reductive parochialism of the jumped-up advertising executive mislabeled ‘prime minister’, who regards public space only in terms of its utility as a giant billboard. I think the 50th anniversary of the Opera House’s official opening affords us an opportunity to reflect on how operatic performances can provide an inclusive platform for the entire community.

It is wonderful to see the Opera host the great works from the classical masters – Puccini’s Tosca, Mozart’s The Magic Flute, Verdi’s La Traviata, just to name a few examples from Sydney Opera’s upcoming repertoire. Yes, we should learn from and respect the masters. Classical music, including opera, is regarded as an elite spectator sport in Australia. Western Sydney, the homeland of so-called mass culture – football, gambling, cricket, alcoholism and anti-immigration, is conducive to raising generations of anti-classical music people.

For young men raised on a musical diet of AC/DC, Cold Chisel and barbecue socialisation, professing an admiration of any classical music makes one vulnerable to social exclusion and charges of that all-purpose Australian homophobic slur. Real men don’t go to the opera; only effete losers like that wimpy kind of foreign-originated classical muck. Richard Wagner is hardly the kind of music to pump out from your stereo system while hooning in the four-wheel drive.

Be that as it may, let’s get back to my suggestion – Omar the opera. What is that? First performed in 2022 in the United States, Omar tells the story of Omar ibn Said (1770 – 1863), an enslaved sub-Saharan African man, who wrote of his experiences in the Arabic language. His memoir, which has survived through the decades since his death in 1863, is on digital display in the US Library of Congress.

Omar ibn Said was an Islamic scholar, kidnapped by slave traders from his homeland in West Africa (what is today Senegal/Mauritania). It was not unusual for people from his region to be literate; the Islamic emirate of Futa Toro was an established society with laws, literature and government. Omar ibn Said was sold into slavery in Charleston, South Carolina. He escaped, was recaptured and returned to slavery, this time in Bladen County, North Carolina. Being literate, as most of the Muslim slaves were, constituted a lethal threat to the institution of slavery.

Completing his memoirs in 1831, he died prior to the implementation of the Emancipation proclamation and the abolition of slavery. His perspective is highly unique, not only because he was literate, but also because he was a member of a religious minority in a time of increasing Christian evangelism. The opera, written by Rhiannon Giddens and Michael Abels, tells an important story from a marginalised and oppressed community.

Surely the transatlantic trade of African chattel slavery was a uniquely American – and European – experience? That is true. So why should we import this opera, which is based on a particular American institution, into the Australian cultural repertoire?

In Australia, we have very consciously adopted those aspects of the European cultural experience which dovetail with the imperatives of the British empire. What is considered the cultural heritage of white Europeans finds a ready audience in Australia. If we are to question the relevance of Omar ibn Said’s story of slavery – and his use of Arabic – to the Australian scene, we could quite rightly question what relevance the Teutonic volkisch themes of Wagner’s operas have for Australian opera goers.

Music can give voice to those whose voices have been suppressed or silenced. Omar provides us with a particular opportunity to provide a platform for those whose perspective has thus far been ignored or written out of this history books.