Back in 2018, I was visiting the city of Noin, which is close to the border of Syria—almost on the border. This city has been the center of a lot of conflict between the Turkish government and the Kurdish militia in northern Syria.

So we were visiting that area, and suddenly, about 50 children gathered. They saw me and wanted to speak English. So I asked them, one by one, to sing a song, and I started recording. At first, they were very shy and hesitant, and then there was a fight

over who would sing. This got to the point that there were literally tanks roaming around in the city, so I had to get in the car because, as an American citizen, that could create a lot of issues. While we were

driving away, I remember about 100 children running after the car, shouting, 'One more song! One more song!' So I realized that I'm blessed in the West with all these beautiful friends and connections and

the work that I'm doing, but it seems like this place needs me more. You know, my name is Sahba Aminikia, and I'm an Iranian-American composer. I was born in the 1980s in Iran, and this was the time that the Islamic Revolution had just happened and

Iran was also engaged in an eight-year war with Iraq. It was a dark period of Iranian history because my family are followers of the Baha'i faith. Relatives, family, and friends were constantly being harassed, arrested, and imprisoned by the Iranian government and were subjected to show trials and even

executions. I remember these weekly gatherings at a friend's house in North Tehran, that we would all gather. People from all ages and backgrounds were coming, and this was a time when these people were going through really difficult times, but they were very

artistically active; playing music, singing, dancing, creating theatrical experiences. It was all about creating a vital refuge for the Baha'i community in Iran, because otherwise we wouldn't survive with all the dark experiences that were happening. I know the significant effect of

exposing children and communities who are suffering to extreme beauty; to something that is truly, truly beautiful and magical. Our Flying Carpet Festival is the first mobile festival for children living in difficult places. And, um, we mostly operate around the city of Mine. We organize workshops, sometimes

up to 20 a day: dance, circus arts, live music, visual projections. We had face painting, for example, a two-hour storytelling experience, and also a puppet performance. We, uh, go through the city with children and with the puppet, and people start to follow us, and we go

back to the performing place, and now we have 2,000 people as an audience. And we have established the system over six years that we can basically travel anywhere. We can go to small villages; we can go to gigantic cities. I love us to show up at places

that there is less possibility, actually. So this includes a small community in the middle of some village, in the middle of the desert in Mesopotamia, that has only 70 residents, you know? And so sometimes our own staff are more than the people living in that place. But also we have

Performances in cities where 2,000–2,500 people is normal attendance. I want to go to the riskiest places, in fact, because those are the children who are stuck with the decisions that adults made in that community. Today we are

living in this world that, obviously, is so politically divided. We were hoping that we can create something that people of different backgrounds, without being looked at as a certain representative of a certain ethnicity or a certain race or a certain culture, can come together, be looked at as one,

without regard to their color, their religion, their background, and would serve as one full soul. The ultimate power is in unity, and unity is what connects us all. That's separate from what we think politics should be. I see human connection beyond

that, and above that, I strongly believe that arts and artists today can be the closest thing we have to spirituality, in fact, because every other way has failed significantly. So I think art can still be incredibly relevant and can be extremely useful for social progress,

for political progress, because they envision and they show you a better version of ourselves, and whether we accept it or not is up to us. So I like the kind of art that doesn't tell you what to do, actually. I love the kind of art that just presents the issue in

front of you and lets you decide, as a human, which side you want to get on. And there is no good or bad side, in fact. People just have different opinions, and I don't think there is any evil in this world; there is no evil in this world. It's

just people being misinformed or uninformed about certain things, and I think there's a huge responsibility for people who know things and can improve things to be educational. And education can only come through love, no other way. So, by shouting and lecturing at people, people wouldn't learn anything; you just have to be lovely to them.

at people, people wouldn't learn anything. You just have to be lovely to them.

The Greatest Show on Earth — for Kids Who Need It Most | Sahba Aminikia | TED

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