When it comes to opera, I discern three more necessary working principles. The first, following on directly from the general principle stated above, is that interpretation must be consistent and cohesive. All interpretive elements must be compatible with one another, and all bonded  with the “givens” of the work, to form an integrated whole. Second, the creator’s guidance with respect to the theatrical “givens” must be accorded the same allegiance as that for the musical ones, including analogous degrees of pliancy in their application, according to the stylistic conventions of the work in question.^(I) Second, the sung action—a bonding of music, word, and physical action—is the essential element of interpretation, the generative one to which all others (including direction and design) owe their qualities.

I did not invent these principles. They are only my formulation of what for many decades were  working assumptions among enlightened practitioners, and like most principles were really distillations of practice. I believe in them. I find them clear, simple, logical, and in fact irrefutable when it comes to the entire body of operatic creation that has proved of lasting worth. So I also find them just. Since they are just, they constitute a code of artistic ethics, and interpretive acts that do not adhere to the principles become not only artistic failures, but ethical violations—actionable civil, if not criminal, acts according to the laws of the artistic sphere. We can’t, regrettably, convene courts martial of art to punish the malefactors. If we could, many a régie-auteur would be under sentence of banishment for life, and others under suspensions of varying lengths, with community service (as A. D. to a less hubristic director?) as their path to reinstatement. The performers who, holding themselves to be powerless conscripted personnel and admitting of no responsibility, have meekly carried out the orders from above, would receive lesser punishments—but would not walk unaccountable.

I speak here of the ethics of art, which would appear to describe the limits of their application. Except that for me, the arts and humanities stand very high as defining markers of civilization itself, and so these ethical principles take on moral value. And how that value weighs against others of broad social significance is a big part of the cultural precarity so many of us feel, and that pushes us to ask, “Where are we?”