What is the role of the arts in times of suffering? If we know that a symphony can’t halt a slaughter, and that life-and-death decisions in war are made on battlefields and in government offices not in concert halls, why do artists continue to respond to the most tumultuous of events around them, and why do we all yearn to experience what they see and say and sing? On the day Vladimir Putin launched his attempted full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, we knew this was an assault not just on a nation but on its culture. So my husband – Peter Gelb of the Metropolitan Opera in New York – and I worked with the Polish National Opera in Warsaw to bring together Ukrainian musicians still at home and refugees abroad for a new kind of orchestra, one that would fight for the country’s cause all over the world. While I could not take up arms, I could take up my baton as my weapon instead. I am of Ukrainian-Canadian heritage with close cousins in the country, one of whom is a lieutenant colonel, who has been fighting in Donetsk since 2014. All of the orchestra, and many members of our audiences, have similar stories to tell. That first summer, the Ukrainian Freedom Orchestra played in London, Amsterdam, New York, Washington DC and more, to make a statement of cultural resistance to barbarity. We had hoped that our first tour would also be our last, and the war would be over. But here we are, two years later. The war goes on and continues to exact its devastating toll. In the wider world, the assurances made in 2022 that a staunchly united west would support Ukraine, come what may, appear less certain. On the ground, this month’s atrocity of Putin bombing a children’s cancer hospital in Kyiv devastated us all. In the face of these vast geopolitical movements, and accompanying humanitarian catastrophe, you can’t help but consider the purpose and the impact of cultural interventions such as ours. But everywhere we visit provides some different form of inspiration. I write these words from Gdańsk in Poland, having just conducted Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, with Schiller’s great cry of freedom, the Ode to Joy, sung in Ukrainian. Our venue was the vast hall of a working shipyard, in the presence of the former Polish president Lech Wałęsa. The resonances with the Polish people’s struggle against Soviet oppression were poignantly apparent and he spoke movingly about his ambitions to integrate Ukraine into the EU and Nato, and his regret that failure to do so has partly led to what we see today. In Paris, the Choir of the French Army sang Schiller’s exhilarating words in Ukrainian, having been taught them by a Ukrainian refugee chorus master. This came just days after France had narrowly avoided electing a Putin-apologist party to lead its parliament. When President Macron refused to rule out sending troops to Ukraine, he caused a diplomatic stir, but here were Nato boots on the cultural ground. At St Paul’s Cathedral in London today, we will be joined by the Royal Opera House’s Songs for Ukraine chorus, which is made up of Ukrainian refugees and members of London’s Ukrainian diaspora affected by the war. The fight for democracy is fought not only in the trenches, but through the revolutionary music created in response to political oppression. That is as true of Beethoven’s Ninth – this year celebrating its 200th anniversary – as it is of the opening work of our programme on tour by the acclaimed contemporary Ukrainian composer Victoria Vita Polevá. Her Bucha Lacrimosa was written in memory of the innocent victims massacred at the hands of Russian invaders in the Ukrainian town of Bucha in 2022, after she had travelled through the town while making her escape from the country. Conductors have also taken a stand. In the 1930s, Toscanini’s heroic anti-fascism saw him refuse to perform in Germany, while continuing to speak up for a more noble vision of culture by conducting the great German repertoire in neighbouring nations. Daniel Barenboim’s East-West Divan Orchestra attempted to bring together young Israeli and Palestinian musicians. Leonard Bernstein was vociferous on a number of causes, notably civil rights. The Ukrainian Freedom Orchestra follows his example set on Christmas Day 1989, just weeks after the fall of the Berlin Wall, when he conducted Beethoven’s Ninth in the city and made one important change to the text. He altered Schiller’s opening word Freude (Joy) to Freiheit (Freedom). In our version, we have changed Freude to Slava, from the phrase that has become familiar around the world as the rallying call of Ukrainian resistance in the face of ruthless Russian aggression, Slava Ukraini (Glory to Ukraine). When the war ends there will be a rebuilding: of physical infrastructure and military capacity to ward off future threat; but also a need for the less tangible rebuilding of health and education and robust institutions, businesses and public administration. A vibrant and confident culture will be vital to this national renewal. As President Zelenskiy recently said: “In times of war – even more so than in times of peace – we must all remember the significance of culture. And people of culture matter. Everyone who speaks out for Ukraine, who voices what’s on their hearts, who revives what could have been forgotten, gives people strength.” Keri-Lynn Wilson is a Canadian-Ukrainian conductor and founder of the Ukrainian Freedom Orchestra