John Whitehead's Commentary

The Titanic sails at dawn
And everybody's shouting
"Which side are you on?"--Bob Dylan, "Desolation Row" (1965)

His was a voice crying in the wilderness. He was the conscience of a generation. He gave the civil rights movement some of its greatest anthems. And Bob Dylan was one of the few pop singers of any real influence who clearly articulated political ideas in his music. But, as if in midstream, Dylan abandoned politics. "I don't want to write for people anymore. You know--be a spokesman," Dylan told Nat Hentoff in 1964. "From now on, I want to write from inside me."

Many of Dylan's friends from the radical days of the early sixties were baffled by the motivation of the man who wrote such classics as "Blowin' in the Wind." As one of Dylan's critics wrote: "You seem to be in a different kind of bag now, Bob--and I'm worried about it."

And although Dylan had participated in key civil rights events, he was not present for the final and most grand civil rights event where black and white protesters and musicians came together--the march from Selma to Montgomery, Alabama, in March 1965--where over 5,000 people sang Dylan's "The Times They Are A-Changin'."

Dylan was perceptive enough to realize that politics is never a real answer. And he knew the times were not changing as he had expected. Thus, by 1965, Dylan had abandoned the civil rights campaign and was preparing to show his new, electric, non-folksy and non-protest style at the Newport Folk Festival in a move that caused a chaotic scene.

The initial sign that Dylan was becoming disillusioned with the left and the political movements of the sixties came late in 1963. Only days after the country had been traumatized by the assassination of John F. Kennedy, Dylan was invited to the grand ballroom of the Hotel Americana in New York to accept an award for his work in the civil rights movement. The result was a disaster.

An intoxicated Dylan felt alienated from his adoring audience, which included many aging activists from the thirties left-wing movement. He first appeared to insult them, saying, "It's not an old people's world." He then simply baffled them with his speech, in which he spoke about race, class and the establishment.

I look down to see the people that are governing me and making my rules--and they haven't got any hair on their head--I get very uptight about it.... And they talk about Negroes, and they talk about black and white.... There's no black and white, left and right to me anymore; there's only up and down and down is very close to the ground. And I'm trying to go up without thinking of anything trivial such as politics.... I got to admit that the man who shot President Kennedy, Lee Oswald, I don't know exactly where--what he thought he was doing, but I got to admit honestly that I, too--I saw some of myself in him.... I saw things that he felt in me--not to go that far and shoot. [Boos and hisses] You can boo, but booing's got nothing to do with it. It's a--I just, ah--I've got to tell you, man, it's Bill of Rights is free speech....

Dylan's drunken rant reflected his growing view that all people are victims of those who control the system and that even the black hierarchy had compromised to gain political power. The speech caused an uproar, and Dylan left the hall amid a mixture of boos and applause. He was now distanced from politics and political songwriting more than ever--only to visit the political arena occasionally, such as his now infamous 1964 concert on Halloween night in New York City. There Dylan returned to form, belting out some of his more political classics such as "The Times They Are A-Changin'" and "With God on Our Side." Just released by Columbia/Legacy, this 19-song set shows the power of Dylan's live performances.

As 1965 dawned, Dylan had clearly moved beyond political activism. He had abandoned the acoustic folk sound and was now a rocker. And when he went electric with his breakthrough album Highway 61 Revisited, it was clear that Dylan had assumed a new role. He had abandoned the shabby rambling-man look and assumed the countenance of a pained and scrawny ascetic.

While most of the sixties generation would soon choose flower power, love and the fallacy that drugs were going to create a new society, Dylan saw the apocalypse approaching. A pivotal song is his 1965 masterpiece "Desolation Row," which cries for humanity to renounce materialism or face destruction and alienation. As he sings:

Now at midnight all the agents
And the superhuman crew
Come out and round up everyone
That knows more than they do
Then they bring them to the factory
Where the heart-attack machine
Is strapped across their shoulders
And then the kerosene
Is brought down from the castles
By insurance men who go
Check to see that nobody is escaping
To Desolation Row.

Dylan biographer Robert Shelton writes that "Desolation Row" brought Dylan to the level of the great apocalyptic poets such as T. S. Eliot. Moreover, Dylan became a prophet whose main concerns are moral, not political. And he condemns virtually all he sees. "All along the way, we encounter Dylan's condemnation of the modern assembly line: mad human robots out of Chaplin's Modern Times," writes Shelton. "Then, almost as an aside, Dylan makes a shambles of simpleminded political commitment. What difference which side you're on if you're sailing on the Titanic? Irony and sarcasm are streetlamps along 'Desolation Row,' keeping away total, despairing darkness, gallows humor for a mass hanging."

Dylan's conversion to Christianity in the late seventies didn't soften his views on the nature of the world. As late as 1991, when asked about the apocalypse, Dylan replied: "It will not be by water, but by fire the next time. It's what is written."

Although he just turned 63, time has not slowed Dylan, who continues his never-ending tour. Neither a recent appearance in a Victoria's Secret commercial nor accounts that he will appear as a guest judge on American Idol next fall can diminish his continued relevance. Over 40 years after their composition, songs like "Masters of War" retain their sharp sting. And although he rarely gives interviews, the fact that this classic song is still an integral part of his live performances may give a hint of what he thinks about the events going on in the world. To the subjects of "Masters of War," Dylan sings:

I hope you will die
And your death will 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 o'er your grave
'Til I'm sure that you're dead.

ABOUT JOHN W. WHITEHEAD

Constitutional attorney and author John W. Whitehead is founder and president of The Rutherford Institute. His most recent books are the best-selling Battlefield America: The War on the American People, the award-winning A Government of Wolves: The Emerging American Police State, and a debut dystopian fiction novel, The Erik Blair Diaries. Whitehead can be contacted at staff@rutherford.org. Nisha Whitehead is the Executive Director of The Rutherford Institute. Information about The Rutherford Institute is available at www.rutherford.org.

Publication Guidelines / Reprint Permission

John W. Whitehead’s weekly commentaries are available for publication to newspapers and web publications at no charge. Please contact staff@rutherford.org to obtain reprint permission.