A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall was a song written by Bob Dylan in 1962. Moreover, this was just one of dozens of songs written by Dylan that year, of which most had political undertones, if not overt political messages. Rain, and water on a more general level, have been used as symbolism dating back to the very first sagas, such as Gilgamesh or The Odyssey. Generally speaking, water is sometimes used to symbolize salvation and sometimes used to symbolize impending doom. In the case of A Hard Rain’ A-Gonna Fall, Dylan was never overt in describing the intention of his lyrics. However, I believe that one could, and maybe even should look at it from both perspectives.
In 1962 our country’s most pressing domestic issue was civil rights. The fight for civil rights, which was being led at that time by Dr. Martin Luther King, was reaching its crescendo, a crescendo that would culminate a few years later with the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965. Yet, in 1962 it still wasn’t certain that those progressive laws would take place soon, if at all. So, the country was teetering on the edge of the fulcrum, not knowing if the next wave of civil unrest would cause the movement to lurch forward or would it instead cause a splintering of the movement that would lead to its decline before any real legal change had occurred.
In terms of foreign policy, the overarching issue facing the US was the Cold War. Specifically, the question of how the young and relatively inexperienced President Kennedy would stand up to Khrushchev and the Soviet Union. This question would soon be answered as Kennedy was confronted with Soviet missiles in Cuba, merely 90 miles from the US Border.
Therefore, these two ongoing episodes supply the political backdrop and context for the song’s title. If one views the “rain” as an omen of impending doom, then Dylan’s lyrics were indeed prescient. In May of 1963, roughly a year after the song was written, Birmingham Public Safety Director, “Bull” Connor ordered the use of fire hoses against the non-violent marchers who showed up in his fair city. Certainly one could easily imagine the immense volume and pressure of water that sprayed from these hoses as “a hard rain.” But, of course, one could also surmise that the lyrics were equally prescient in terms of the US-Soviet conflict. If nuclear missiles should ever fall from the sky, then indeed, “a hard rain’s a-gonna fall.”
Yet, rain, and water generally, can also be seen as cleansing. Water literally washes us. Thus, water is often used to symbolize the great “washing” of mankind of his many sins. Probably the most obvious use of this symbolism was the great biblical flood. Looking back at the 1960s one could argue that the Civil Rights Laws and the changing social reaction to racial injustice acted as cleansing waters that helped to wash society from some of its wickedness.
All of which is interesting, but what does any of this have to do with Hungary? Presently, Hungary’s political climate is at a teetering point. In one article the term “soft fascism” was used to describe the policies that have been put in place by the country’s Prime Minister, Viktor Orban. This term’s implication is that no single policy by Orban has been so radical as to be labeled as fascist. However, just like death from a thousand paper cuts, when taken as a whole, the laws have slowly strangled the ability of the opposition to mount any kind of real challenge to Orban.
But let’s now focus on Hungary and the ability of the people to voice criticism. In a recent lesson given to my eleventh-grade class, I defined the term “zeitgeist.” This term defines the “spirit” of a time period. In any historical study/paper/critique, it is necessary to use our power of empathy to come to terms with an era’s zeitgeist. Because, if we don’t, then we have no option other than to judge past people and events based on our current morals, ideals and beliefs, which may or may not have been shared by the era in question. This failure would, of course, lead to spurious explanations that fail to appreciate how the time period in question was shaped by different morals, ideals and beliefs, which therefore lead to more honest and appropriate explanations.
A quick look back into Hungary’s history gives us some clues that might explain the lack of political opposition in the face of the tightening of the political, legal and social vise that is restricting the political, economic and social opportunities of Hungarians. This backward glance would uncover the fact that the older population in Hungary – the population with the economic and social power to fight back – were raised during the Soviet occupation; a time when political opposition was illegal. As a result, it would not be a huge leap of logic to surmise that this political voice, which had never been flexed, had atrophied to the degree that it is now impossible to bring it back. All of which suggests that this type of thinking and action is simply not part of the thinking of the Hungarian population.
So what is the condition of the coming rain in Hungary? Will the rain come in the form of more limiting laws and economic opportunities that will cause great harm; indeed a dangerous flood that will cause great suffering and social stagnation. Or, will the Hungarian (or the greater European Union Nations) rise up together to oust Orban, thereby “cleansing” the country of its oppressor and opening the doors – flood gates? – to greater freedoms and economic opportunities that will allow these beautiful people and this beautiful country to maximize the economic and social opportunities of its nation.
I will copy the lyrics of A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall below. One, because the lyrics have meaning in any era; and, two, because they will allow you to guess which rain metaphor you think Dylan was using.
Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, where have you been, my darling young one?
I’ve stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains
I’ve walked and I’ve crawled on six crooked highways
I’ve stepped in the middle of seven sad forests
I’ve been out in front of a dozen dead oceans
I’ve been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard
And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, and it’s a hard
And it’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall
Oh, what did you see, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, what did you see, my darling young one?
I saw a newborn baby with wild wolves all around it
I saw a highway of diamonds with nobody on it
I saw a black branch with blood that kept drippin’
I saw a room full of men with their hammers a-bleedin’
I saw a white ladder all covered with water
I saw ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all broken
I saw guns and sharp swords in the hands of young children
And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard
And it’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall
And what did you hear, my blue-eyed son?
And what did you hear, my darling young one?
I heard the sound of a thunder, it roared out a warnin’
Heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world
Heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin’
Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter
Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley
And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard
And it’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall
Oh, who did you meet, my blue-eyed son?
Who did you meet, my darling young one?
I met a young child beside a dead pony
I met a white man who walked a black dog
I met a young woman whose body was burning
I met a young girl, she gave me a rainbow
I met one man who was wounded in love
I met another man who was wounded with hatred
And it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard
It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall
Oh, what’ll you do now, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, what’ll you do now, my darling young one?
I’m a-goin’ back out ‘fore the rain starts a-fallin’
I’ll walk to the depths of the deepest black forest
Where the people are many and their hands are all empty
Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters
Where the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison
Where the executioner’s face is always well-hidden
Where hunger is ugly, where souls are forgotten
Where black is the color, where none is the number
And I’ll tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it
And reflect it from the mountain so all souls can see it
Then I’ll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin’
But I’ll know my song well before I start singin’
And it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard
It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall
Songwriter: Bob Dylan
