Presentation to a book club
The arts have an enormous
impact on the life of society, and today I want to briefly give an example.
The arts include such traditional forms as paintings, plays and the visual
arts. To illustrate, here's how a piece of poetry helped alter American
foreign policy.
To begin, consider Dwight D. Eisenhower’s farewell address
to the nation – a speech American TV networks broadcast on January 17, 1961.
Despite being a politician with a military background and
the only general to be elected president in the 20th century, he famously
warned the nation with regards to the corrupting influence of what he
describes as the “military-industrial complex.” Characterizing it as a
“potential enemy of the national interest” and at a times an “unjustified
expenditure”; Eisenhower viewed the military-industrial complex to be
“nothing more than a distorted use of the nation’s resources.”
“Until the latest of our world conflicts,” he said, “the
United States had no armaments industry. American makers of plowshares could,
with time and as required, make swords as well. But we can no longer risk
emergency improvisation of national defense. We have been compelled to create
a permanent armaments industry of vast proportions. Added to this, three and
a half million men and women are directly engaged in the defense
establishment. We annually spend on military security alone more than the net
income of all United States corporations….”
“In the councils of government, we must guard against the
acquisition of unwarranted influence, whether sought or unsought, by the
military-industrial complex. The potential for the disastrous rise of
misplaced power exists and will persist. We must never let the weight of this
combination endanger our liberties or democratic processes. We should take
nothing for granted. Only an alert and knowledgeable citizenry can compel the
proper meshing of the huge industrial and military machinery of defense with
our peaceful methods and goals, so that security and liberty may prosper
together.”
The lyrics to Dylan’s song are at the end of this post. He
wrote them over the winter of 1962–63, and released the song on the
album The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan the following spring; have a listen.
Less than three minutes in length, the song took direct aim at the military
industrial complex and indirect aim at the Vietnam War. So doing, he began a
movement which others soon joined – think Canada’s Joni Mitchell and
Americans Phil Ochs, Barry McGuire, Tom Paxton, Pete Seeger, Arlo Guthrie and
Joan Baez. These writers and many other cultural figures played a huge role
in making America’s antiwar movement a force to be reckoned with. Thirty-five
years ago, the scandal-ridden Nixon government withdrew from that terrible,
lopsided war.
The antiwar movement strongly affected me when I lived in
the United States, and before coming to Canada in 1970 I frequently and
passionately took part in demonstrations, protests and the famous March on
Washington. My feeling – and this is the point of my presentation today – is
that my views and those of millions of other Americans of my generation began
with Dylan’s song. In that conflict, the masters of war turned out to be the
baby boomers.
Masters of War: The Lyrics
*Come you masters of war/You that build all the guns
You that build the death planes/You that build all the bombs
You that hide behind walls/You that hide behind desks
I just want you to know/I can see through your masks
You that never done nothin’/But build to destroy
You play with my world/Like it’s your little toy
You put a gun in my hand/And you hide from my eyes
And you turn and run farther/When the fast bullets fly
Like Judas of old/You lie and deceive
A world war can be won/You want me to believe
But I see through your eyes/And I see through your brain
Like I see through the water/That runs down my drain
You fasten all the triggers/For the others to fire
Then you set back and watch/When the death count gets higher
You hide in your mansion’/As young people’s blood
Flows out of their bodies/And is buried in the mud
You’ve thrown the worst fear/That can ever be hurled
Fear to bring children/Into the world
For threatening my baby/Unborn and unnamed
You ain’t worth the blood/That runs in your veins
How much do I know/To talk out of turn
You might say that I’m young/You might say I’m unlearned
But there’s one thing I know/Though I’m younger than you
That even Jesus would never/Forgive what you do
Let me ask you one question/Is your money that good
Will it buy you forgiveness/Do you think that it could
I think you will find/When your death takes its toll
All the money you made/Will never buy back your soul
And I hope that you die/And your death’ll come soon
I will follow your casket/In the pale afternoon
And I’ll watch while you’re lowered/Down to your deathbed
And I’ll stand over your grave/’Til I’m sure that you’re dead
