No offense, but . . .

My buddies at DeafGA called to my attention this recent "Critic's Notebook" by the New York Times' well-known classical music pundit, Anthony Thomassini.

After venting our collective outrage, and commiserating about the embarrassment of having one's hearing aid whistle audibly (to everyone but oneself, of course) in public, the group floated the idea of writing a letter to the editor in response to Thomassini's short-sighted and insensitive essay. I've penned and submitted the following, though it likely is too to long to actually make the Times' editorial page. Lucky for me, I have this handy vehicle for publication, albeit to a smaller audience.
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In his recent Critic’s Notebook ("Pardon me, sir, but your auricular instrument is flat,” published December 2), Anthony Thomassini identifies the hearing aid as an electronic nuisance that has “discreetly” gone unmentioned by the arbiters of theatre etiquette. Thomassini lauds Sir Simon Rattle’s bravery in singling out an aurally-challenged offender at a recent Berlin Philharmonic performance. Apparently, upon hearing the audible whistle of a hearing aid, Rattle “tactfully” turned to the microphone to request that someone assist the wearer with the problem.

Thomassini laments that hearing aids have “ruined” many performances. He seems to recognize that hearing-aid wearers often are unaware of the offending whistle, and that even a normally-quiet aid may squeal upon being subjected to some of the higher-pitched notes coaxed from an orchestra. Yet while he acknowledges that it would be “mean spirited” to single out the hearing impaired for interrupting a concert, Thomassini seems to be doing precisely that.

The upshot of his essay is to suggest that those of us whose ability to hear and enjoy music and theatre requires technological assistance please stay home, or at least try to skip those classical music performances Thomassini and his ilk prefer to attend. Thomassini excoriates us for daring to disturb the “precious environment” of the opera or concert house. He rails against the “noisy, hooked-up, fast-paced, and overamplified world” that somehow is embodied by the hearing-impaired concertgoer.

Alternatively, Thomassini would have us attend, but kindly turn off our hearing aids when the curtain rises, so as not to disturb the “rapt atmosphere that ideally should accompany classical music performances.” He seems to believe that we noisome hearing-aid users gladly would pay ever-increasing ticket prices for the privilege of sitting in the theatre or concert hall (with duly rapt attention), unable to hear a single word or note.

Thomassini also urges more artists to follow Sir Simon’s lead, and to take action against those audience members who persist in using their offending devices. In the world as Thomassini envisions it, those people with disabilities inconsiderate enough to impose themselves on public performances will attend on pain of public flogging for a whistling hearing aid, a restless seeing eye dog, or the buzz of an electric wheelchair. Given that over half the world’s population lives with some type of physical disability, one is left to wonder whether perhaps it would be more efficient – and more profitable for Carnegie Hall – to suggest that Thomassini invest in a quality home stereo system and a collection of classical music CDs.