A Deeper Look at he Human Condition through the Lens of Dylan's "License to Kill"

Infidels was Bob Dylan's first album following his trilogy of Gospel infused albums, Slow Train Coming, Saved and Shot of Love. "License to Kill was the fourth track on side one. It contains some meaty, thought-provoking content along with an ambiguous chorus and title.  

After his overt Gospel period, Bob Dylan didn’t abandon moral vision, he synthesized it, weaving its threads both visibly and discreetly through the albums that followed that period.  

Songs like "License to Kill" carry a quiet, probing ethical weight, where questions of power, conscience, and human responsibility echo with biblical depth beneath the surface.

The song depicts the consequences of human arrogance, which is itself an interesting word. Arrogance is the habit of overstepping our place—assuming authority, control, or wisdom we do not truly possess. When we “arrogate power,” we act as if we are ultimate judges or masters, forgetting our limits. It’s the illusion that we can dominate outcomes, people, or even nature, as though we were accountable to no higher order.  

The “license” is symbolic: humanity acting as if it has permission to dominate, exploit, and destroy.  For me, though, it was the fourth verse and its reference to Narcissus that stimulated my curiosity to dig deeper into this song when I first heard it nearly 44 years ago.

Verse 1 begins "Man thinks ’cause he rules the earth he can do with it as he please..." Dylan opens with a sweeping indictment: humanity assumes ownership of the Earth as if we are the ultimate authority. It's the illusion of dominion, and Dylan's song is a cautionary warning. Progress without wisdom is dangerous. Because of man's pride, the seeds of our own destruction are already planted.

For years I've always found the refrain a bit curious. "Now, there’s a woman on my block // She just sit there facin’ the hill // She say who gonna take away his license to kill?"

 

She's watching, waiting, and powerless. Perhaps she represents all of us who see the havoc generated by the narrative-spinners, bomb-slingers and power brokers. With each passing stanza her question is reiterated, and it remains unanswered. 

The second stanza addresses social conditioning. Dylan shifts from “man” in general to the conspiracy of systems that shape him—education, culture, media, institutions. 

"They take him and they teach him and they groom him for life // And they set him on a path where he’s bound to get ill // Then they bury him with stars // Sell his body like they do used cars 

  

The third goes further still, the aim of propaganda:

"Now, he’s hell-bent for destruction, he’s afraid and confused // And his brain has been mismanaged with great skill // All he believes are his eyes // And his eyes, they just tell him lies"

How many times have we read and seen things online or in the media and honestly don't know what's true any more. As Mark Twain once said, "Believe half of what you see and none of what you hear." [EdNote: Guess what? Mark Twain didn't actually say that. It was Edgar Allen Poe. Or was it Ben Franklin?]

People aren't just ignorant of the truth, they're actually products (victims) of engineered misunderstanding. "And his eyes, they just tell him lies." Our perceptions are being deliberately distorted. What we see and believe may be deeply and intentionally misleading.

Preceding the last verse is a bridge that reminds those who think they are powerful, impressive and influential that they may still be playing a shallow role in a larger, misguided system. As we look at today's global chaos, one has to ask what is the endgame here? Who's really running this crazy show?

Oh we think we're so hot. Here's how Dylan puts it:

"Now he worships at an altar of a stagnant pool

And when he sees his reflection, he’s fulfilled

Oh, man is opposed to fair play

He wants it all and he wants it his way"

The reference to Narcissus is so apt. Instead of striving for something higher, man becomes his own god. When he looks in the mirror he loves what he sees.

"But there’s a woman on my block

Sitting there in a cold chill

She say who gonna take away his license to kill?"

She sees. She still asks. We still don't hear an answer.

The Moral Landscape of Kubrick’s Paths of Glory

Information Conveyed in the First Minutes of Stanley Kubrick's Paths of Glory Before the Battle Begins 

Against a black background we see the United Artists logo in blue with the name in white in a sans serif font. This fades and then the words Bryna Productions present in a serif font appear. The name Kirk Douglas replaces that, with a very large font, followed then by Paths of Glory, with a fine line of print beneath that reads: 
© COPYRIGHT MCMLVII HARRIS-KUBRICK PICTURES CORPORATION.

Co-stars and other featured stars are listed, followed by other staff, art director, screenwriters and the novel it is based on, "Paths of Glory" by Humphrey Cobb.

The opening shot appears at one minute and nineteen seconds into the film. We see what appears to be a scene on the order of Versailles. There are officers on horseback near the foreground, a man on a bicycle to the left, and a few clusters of persons both in the foreground and further away. The scene is black and white, and the words France 1916 are superimposed over it. 

Voiceover: "War began between Germany and France on August 3, 1914." 

The camera follows the bicycle to the foreground which turns to the left. Soldiers bearing arms are marching by as the narrator states that "the German army, five weeks later, had smashed its way to within 18 miles of Paris. There the battered French miraculously rallied their forces at the Marne River, and then a series of unexpected counter attacks drove the Germans back. The front was stabilized, and shortly developed into a continuous line of heavily fortified trenches zigzagging their way 500 miles from the English Channel to the Swiss frontier." 

During this narration soldiers line up in front of this stately French estate which may be the equivalent of our Capitol. A jeep approaches, the men present arms as a person of importance disembarks and strides into the building, accompanied by his aides.

Narrator: "By 1916, after two grisly years of trench warfare, the battle lines had changed very little. Successful attacks were measured in hundreds of yards and paid for in lives numbering hundreds of thousands."

The person of importance is General George Broulard who has come to call on General Paul Mireau. After a little small talk, Gen. Broulard cuts to the chase. "Paul, I've come to see you about something big." 

General Mireau has already heard rumors of what is coming. The Ant Hill has been the key to the whole sector. The Germans have held it for a year and will hold it for another if they want. 

"Paul, I have formal orders to take the Ant Hill no later than the tenth. That's the day after tomorrow," General Boulard says.

"That comes pretty close to being ridiculous, don't you think?" General Mireau replies. 

"I wouldn't be here if I thought that," Gen. Broulard says. He then begins his pitch. "If there's one man who could do this it would be you."

Mireau expresses frankly, "That's out of the question. Absolutely out of the question. My division has been cut to pieces. What's left of it is in no condition to hold the Ant Hill, let alone take it. I'm sorry, but that's the truth."

Gen. Broulard brings out his carrot, dangles a promotion and another star before him, but Mireau remains realistic. It can't be accomplished and he asserts that for him, "My men come first of all, George, and those men know it." And furthermore, "The life of one of those soldiers means more to me than all the stars and decorations and honors in France."

"So, you think this is absolutely beyond the ability of your men at this time," Broulard replies.

General Mireau, tilting his head and making direct eye contact, says, "I didn't say that, George."

And so it begins. The cat and mouse dialogue ends with a decision to make it happen, not for personal glory, but for France. 

* * * 
SPOILER ALERT

* * * 

At six minutes, eight seconds, we cut to the battlefield. Or rather, we see a desolate view of no man's land with the Ant Hill as a backdrop. The camera pulls back and we see that this is a view from an observation window. There's a bomb crater, naked trees stripped of leaves by artillery fire, a dank mist hovering across the blasted terrain.

The camera pulls back to reveal that we are in a concrete bunker, with a soldier standing there viewing the scene through a horizontal notch. He wears a grim expression as he turns away.

Cut to: General Mireau and his chief aide are walking through the trench, Mireau cheerful and with smug purposefulness as he greets the soldiers he passes. The soldiers bolt to attention as he approaches. At intervals he stops to engage in what he imagines to be an inspirational chat. It's not a real dialogue because he is clueless as to the interior condition of these men In point of fact he cares nothing for their welfare, as will become apparent later.

The first two men he stops to talk with will be unjustly placed before a firing squad by the film's end. The third soldier he stops to exchange banter with is clearly shell-shocked. When another soldier standing at this man's side says he's shell-shocked, the general declares that there is no such thing as shell shock. One more signal indicating how removed and out of touch the generals are.

The general, outraged, slugs the shell-shocked soldier in the face, then orders him removed from the regiment. As they continue on their way his aide says, "General, I'm convinced that these tours of your have an incalculable effect on morale. In fact, I think the fighting spirit of the 701st derives from it."

That scene is devastating.

* * * 

Kubrick is doing something subtle in these opening scenes. Before the battle even begins, he is already making a visual argument about war.

The first technique is camera movement. When General Mireau walks through the trench, Kubrick places the camera in front of him and tracks backward as he advances. The shot lasts far longer than most directors would allow. As the general strides forward confidently, soldiers snap to attention one after another, the muddy trench walls pressing in on both sides.

What makes the shot powerful is the contrast it creates. The general moves smoothly through space, confident and purposeful. The soldiers cannot move at all. They are wedged into the trench like parts in a broken machine. The camera forces us to look directly into their faces—tired, anxious, hollow. Mireau sees soldiers. We see human beings.

Kubrick used variations of this technique throughout his career. In The Killing, for example, the camera follows characters through corridors and racetrack passageways in long, deliberate movements that quietly build tension and reveal character. The motion of the camera itself becomes part of the storytelling.

The second technique in Paths of Glory is architectural contrast. The film opens in a grand French chateau where generals discuss strategy beneath high ceilings, polished floors, and ornate walls. War here is calm, civilized, almost elegant. Maps are studied, promotions hinted at, decisions made over polite conversation.

Then Kubrick cuts to the trenches.

The world changes instantly. The ceilings disappear. The sky is gray. The ground is muck. The soldiers live like burrowing animals in narrow corridors carved into the earth. The contrast is unmistakable: the war planned in the palace is fought in the mud.

Kubrick doesn’t have to say what he thinks about war. The camera has already told us. But as anyone knows who has seen this film the dialogue is priceless, especially the manner in which the lines are delivered.

Near the film's conclusion, Kirk Douglas as Colonel Dax delivers this indictment of what was is and does:

"Gentlemen of the court, there are times when I am ashamed to be part of the human race, and this is one of them... I can't believe that the noblest impulse of man, his compassion for another, can be completely dead here."

At this instant my mind goes immediately to the people of Gaza, and the common people of all the other failed states that have been dismantled by imperialist aggression. 

* * * 

Related Link
Poilu -- A Grisly WWI Memoir from the Trenches

Noblesse Oblige: Redeeming Privilege in an Age of Resentment

The United States is not just a melting pot of races and cultures, it's also a melting pot of languages and ideas. One concept we inherited (or borrowed) from the French is summed up in the expression noblesse oblige. 

In our time, the failures of Western Civilization—colonialism, inequality, exploitation—are often highlighted as though they define the whole. Yet Western Civ also gave rise to constitutional government, the rule of law, scientific inquiry, individual rights, abolition movements, and ideals of human dignity that fueled reform from within. Its greatest strength may have been self-critique—the capacity to confront injustice using its own moral vocabulary. At its best, it calls the powerful to responsibility, to service rather than domination.

The French phrase noblesse oblige literally means “nobility obligates.” It expresses the idea that those who possess privilege—whether of birth, wealth, education, or power—carry a moral responsibility toward those with less. French is a beautiful language, and the concept here is beautiful as well.

This idea emerged from the hierarchical structure of medieval and early modern France. In a feudal society, nobles enjoyed legal advantages, land ownership, and social prestige. Yet embedded within that system was an expectation: privilege was not merely to be enjoyed, but to be stewarded. A noble was expected to show courage in battle, generosity toward dependents, protection of the weak, and a certain standard of honorable conduct. Rank demanded character.

The phrase itself gained wider usage in the 17th and 18th centuries and entered English in the 19th century. In Victorian Britain and America, it became shorthand for the belief that the upper classes should lead in philanthropy, public service, and moral example. Industrial magnates who endowed libraries, universities, and hospitals sometimes saw themselves as acting under this principle. Andrew Carnegie funded a total of 2,509 libraries worldwide between 1883 and 1919, including libraries in both Duluth and Hibbing.

Critics, however, have long noted the ambiguity of noblesse oblige. At its best, it encourages stewardship, generosity, and civic responsibility. At its worst, they say it reinforces paternalism—implying that help flows downward from a superior class rather than recognizing shared dignity and mutual obligation. 

This is another example, as I noted last week, of how it's better to do the right thing for the wrong reason than to  do the wrong thing.   

Carnegie Library interior, Duluth MN

In modern democratic societies, the phrase has expanded beyond hereditary aristocracy. Today it may refer to the ethical duties of CEOs, elected officials, celebrities, or anyone whose influence exceeds that of others. The core insight remains relevant: privilege is not morally neutral. Power and advantage carry responsibility. Noblesse oblige reminds us that status is not only a benefit—it carries a burden of expectation.

There is always a price for negligence when we don’t assume responsibility for our privilege.  

What's often missing when discussing the responsibilities of privilege is how much of this attitude stems from the Bible. Jesus emphasized stewardship, charity, and accountability for the powerful. Biblical ideas like "To whom much is given, much will be required" (Luke 12:48) and Christ's example of servant leadership aligned with the notion that higher status demanded greater service.

Christianity profoundly shaped and reinforced this concept within feudal Europe, especially from the 11th–13th centuries onward. The code of chivalry—which developed in France around the late 12th century (associated with knighthood and the ideal of the chevalier)—was explicitly rooted in medieval Christian ethics. It blended warrior duties with Christian virtues: piety, protection of the weak, generosity, justice, and humility. Chivalry was never fully codified but was popularized in literature (e.g., Arthurian legends) and promoted by the Church to civilize the warrior class. 

Without Christian influence, feudal obligations might have remained more pragmatic or contractual (as in some pre-Christian warrior societies). Christianity infused them with ethical depth—turning raw power into a calling to honorable service, mercy, and protection of the weak.

These attitudes which were embedded in Old Testament Judaism didn't begin with Christianity, but they flowered there. The principle echoes throughout Scripture: from the prophets' calls for justice and care for the widow, orphan, and stranger, to the New Testament's parables of stewardship and the servant-king who washes feet rather than lords it over others. Jesus Himself is the ultimate embodiment of noblesse oblige—the divine Son who, possessing all authority, laid it down to serve and sacrifice for the least.

In our flattened, egalitarian age, the phrase can sound archaic or elitist. Yet its deeper truth endures: whatever gifts, opportunities, or positions we've been entrusted with—be they talents, resources, influence, or simply the accident of birth in a prosperous society—come with strings attached. Not strings of guilt, but of grateful obligation. The one who has received much is called to give much, not out of superiority, but out of recognition that all good things come from above and are meant to flow through us to bless others.

This is the quiet revolution at the heart of the biblical vision: true nobility isn't about hoarding privilege but about channeling it toward the common good. In a culture quick to demand rights and resent hierarchies, noblesse oblige—reclaimed through its Christian roots—challenges us to ask: What have I been given? And how will I steward it faithfully?

Perhaps that's the meditation we need today—not to reject privilege, but to redeem it. To see our advantages not as entitlements to exploit or excuses to withdraw, but as divine trusts calling us to humble, generous service. For in the end, the measure of our nobility isn't the height of our station, but the depth of our willingness to bend low for the sake of others. As Christ showed us, the greatest among us must become the servant of all—and therein lies the truest freedom and the most enduring legacy.

Film as a Philosophical Lens

Last week I uploaded all my blog posts from 2008 to an A.I. called NotebookLM. I requested an analysis and overview of the contents of my daily entries from that year and was both intrigued and surprised by the feedback. 

The six page report outlined six categories which most of my content fit into. One of these, which surprised me but should not have, had to do with reviews or references to movies. There's a sense in which it became clear how much our culture shapes up more than we realize.

Here's the section of that report assessing my 2008 writings about film. This is followed by links to five movie reviews, three from 2008 and two others from later.

* * *

Film as a Philosophical Lens

The author’s film analyses consistently transcend simple plot summary or critique, instead using cinematic narratives to probe intricate philosophical and ethical themes. This approach is evident in his treatment of a wide range of films from 2007 and 2008.

Morality and Chaos: A preoccupation with the nature of evil and the struggle for order emerges from the reviews of No Country for Old Men and The Dark Knight. The author is captivated by Javier Bardem's portrayal of Anton Chiguhr as a relentless, "pathological, human version of The Terminator," a force of pure chaos operating outside conventional morality. In The Dark Knight, he identifies a similar dynamic in The Joker, whose goal is to "destroy all notions of order and decency." The author is drawn to how these films explore the ethical compromises necessary to confront such chaos, noting that Batman must "violate his own code of ethics in order to reach an ethical conclusion." His assessment of No Country for Old Men is marked by a telling ambivalence. While he praises the film's execution as "flawless," he simultaneously identifies "a number of problems," including a performance by Tommy Lee Jones he found to be a "caricature of himself," the questionable "star power" of Woody Harrelson for such a brief role, and a "confusing" ending that undermined the film's intense buildup.

Reality and Illusion: The author uses the films Vanilla Sky and The Prestige to engage with classic philosophical questions about perception, reality, and self-deception. He praises Vanilla Sky as a "vision realized" that explores the "philosophical conundrum of the ‘brain in the vat’" and forces the protagonist—and the viewer—to choose between a perfect fantasy and the harder challenges of reality. He highlights the film's use of the two-faced Janus figure as a key symbol of this pivotal transition. Similarly, in his review of The Prestige, he quotes the film's central premise: "You don't really want to know. You want to be fooled," using it to discuss the human desire for illusion over truth.

Character and Storytelling: A strong preference for authentic, character-driven narratives over formulaic productions is a consistent thread. He praises a film like There Will Be Blood as a powerful "character study" and celebrates its director for employing the "preeminent rule of storytelling: show, don’t tell." Conversely, he criticizes films he views as shallow. Sofia Coppola's Marie Antoinette, for example, is described as being trapped in a "bubble" without historical context. This contrast underscores his high valuation of deep character exploration and masterful storytelling craft over surface-level spectacle.

The Prestige

https://pioneerproductions.blogspot.com/2014/01/is-prestige-greatest-movie-about-magic.html

The Mission

https://pioneerproductions.blogspot.com/2010/10/missions-pointed-question.html

There Will Be Blood

https://pioneerproductions.blogspot.com/2008/04/there-will-be-blood.html

No Country for Old Men

https://pioneerproductions.blogspot.com/2021/04/throwback-thursday-no-country-for-old.html

Vanilla Sky

https://pioneerproductions.blogspot.com/2008/02/vanilla-sky.html