Beethoven’s Fidelio: An opera filled with hope

A few years ago, I was introduced to Beethoven’s one-and-only opera, Fidelio. Seeing it for the first time, I was instantly hooked. Not only did I love the music, which featured moments of heart-thumping thrill and profound sensitivity, but its story – unlike the plots of many similar operas of the time – felt unusually pertinent, making my experience extra-special.

Struggled over by Beethoven for nearly 10 years, Fidelio tells the story of two lovers, Leonore and Florestan, who cannot be together as Florestan has been imprisoned for political dissent against his oppressor Don Pizarro. Despite the plot’s bleak beginnings, it is ultimately a tale of hope: Leonore embarks on a quest to liberate her husband by disguising herself as a prison guard, allowing her to access the cell where Florestan is held captive. After two hours of spiralling twists and turns, the opera ends triumphantly, with the lovers being reunited in a wonderful moment of redemption from evil.

Whilst the story is admittedly fictional, many inhumane prisons filled with political revolutionaries –just like the one in Fidelio – certainly existed in Beethoven’s time. In fact, the opera’s libretto is directly inspired by the grim political realities of 18th Century France, Austria and Spain, and there are discernible elements of Habsburg authoritarianism in the plot, as well as flavours of the ‘Reign of Terror’ that followed the collapse of the Ancien Regime in France.

But what is more intriguing about Fidelio is not how it was impacted by history, but rather how it might impact the future. As a story that fundamentally condemns the oppressive, authoritarian way in which Pizarro tyrannises those beneath him, Fidelio advocates for the importance of individual liberty and universal democratic freedoms. Yet despite its clear message in favour of democracy, there is still something chillingly familiar about the oppression that many of its characters endure. In the iconic dungeon scene at the beginning of Act II in which Florestan is about to be executed, it is almost as if Beethoven was invoking the recent death of Alexei Navalny – the outspoken critic of President Putin who died a lonely death in prison. Clearly therefore, Fidelio’s didactic warnings haven’t been enough to prevent the authoritarianism that it so fervently condemns.

While this may be the case, Fidelio’s far more important message still rings truer than ever: namely, the universal nature of love and hope. Although we live in a world where many would argue that there is little hope left, with wars raging, dictatorships thriving and social divisions widening, I’d like to think that if people stepped back for a moment and listened to Fidelio, the profound unity expressed by the prisoners in the Prisoners’ Chorus, the dutiful commitment to finding Florestan that Leonore speaks of in Komm Hoffnung, and the moving moment where Florestan and Leonore are reunited in O Namelose Freude, would be enough to expunge every destructive ounce from the person in question.

Therefore, in this year full of elections and political dramas, my hope is that people will learn from Fidelio and will do what is best for humanity.