Master of War

Robert McNamara, the chief architect of the Vietnam War, passed away in his sleep yesterday at the age of 93. Ironic, given the violent deaths and endless suffering of so many Americans and Vietnamese that came as a result of his decisions.

Reading McNamara’s obituary in the New York Times this morning I learned that, like the most recent Iraqi conflict, the Vietnam War, which killed 58,000 Americans (about 10 times the Iraqi war) was launched on assumptions that were based on faulty information:

“Congress authorized the war after Johnson contended that American warships had been attacked by North Vietnamese patrol boats in the Gulf of Tonkin on Aug. 4, 1964. The attack never happened, as a report declassified by the National Security Agency in 2005 made clear. The American ships had been firing at radar shadows on a dark night. At the time, however, the agency’s experts told Mr. McNamara that the evidence of an attack was iron-clad. “It was just what Johnson [LBJ] was looking for.”

Not surprisingly, McNamara was haunted by his decisions for the rest of his life, as can be seen in Errol Morris's 2003 film The Fog of War:

Though his name is never stated in Bob Dylan's song, McNamara is a true Master of War. One of the highlights of Dylan's second record Freewheelin’ (a record which also included "Blowin in the Wind," "A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall" and "Don’t Think Twice, It’s Alright"), "Masters of War" is easily among the greatest war-related songs ever written. The bite of the lyrics (which you can read in their entirety below), and the incessant drone of his lone guitar still sting today:

You fasten 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

Speaking to USA Today's Edna Gundersen, Dylan said “Masters of War” is not an anti-war protest song per se, but rather "is supposed to be a pacifistic song against war. It's not an anti-war song. It's speaking against what Eisenhower was calling a military-industrial complex as he was making his exit from the presidency. That spirit was in the air, and I picked it up."

I was fortunate to see Eddie Vedder sing a memorable version of "Masters of War" at the 1992 Dylan tribute show at Madison Square Garden. Vedder’s hound-dog howling at times verged on self-parody, but he captured the spirit of the song well and made it his own.


In 1991, only days after the launch of the first Gulf War, Bob and his band took a punk-like approach to the song at the Grammys, where he received Lifetime Achievement honors.

While Dylan's vocals are far from his best here (he was sick that night), his guitarist Cesar Diaz blows out a couple of the hottest solos you'll see anywhere.


In recent years, the hip-hop soul group The Roots have played an ingenious live cover of "Masters of War" sung to the melody of Francis Scott Key's "Star Spangled Banner."


A few years back I saw Dylan play a minor league ballpark in Fishkill, NY. Late into the show, Dylan busted out a spellbinding version "Masters of War." A twentysomething woman near me said “Is this a new song?” “No” I said. “It’s forty-three years old.”

R.I.P. Mr. McNamara. Take it away, Bob.

Masters Of War
Come you masters of war
You that build all the guns
You that build the death planes
You that build the big 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 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
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 o'er your grave
'Til I'm sure that you're dead

Copyright ©1963; renewed 1991 Special Rider Music