In the Spirit of Bondi and Vogelin
My friend and fellow enviro-meddler Hayduke unintentionally spoiled my peaceful Saturday evening with this post about a return of the military draft. Not a topic I really care to think about while I’m trying to relax with a book and a glass of wine.
Should have stuck with the book and stayed off the Internet. Nobody’s fault but mine.
It’s good that he made the post, however, because it’s an important discussion that reveals a lot about the war machine and how it works.
People have been talking about a return of the draft ever since it died after Vietnam. To date, it’s been unable to sustain momentum, because a lot of wealthy GOP supporters can’t fathom the thought of little Treadwell being hauled off to some foreign land and being shot at by heathens.
But the cacophony is growing louder, because the ruling elite can no longer fight its financially motivated wars with volunteers. They’re fatigued and resorting to guzzling RedBull just to get through the day. Too frequently, these are easily duped young men from the financial underclass looking for ways to escape economic dead ends. They believe the lies told my military recruiters. I call them The Duped. Some young men and women are from regular, middle class families, have decent educations and believe they are really serving their country. They’re also part of The Duped.
Others have a blood lust and eagerly seek an opportunity to kill other human beings. They’re easy to spot.
I hear them talking in gym, and the things I hear are shocking. Talk of razing entire countries. “Taking care of the liberal problem.” The rabid right wing, drunk on an elixir of hate and fear brewed by goose-stepping media loudmouths like Limbaugh, Coulter, O’Reilly and Falwell. Thank god Falwell is dead.
They’re knuckle dragging, ignorant louts obsessed with militarism and jacked up on too much testosterone. They live their lives in a constant state of fear and anger. They are The Ugly.
I’m still looking for The Good.
Much has changed since the Second World War generation responded to the call against a legitimate threat. Of course, all is not exactly as it seemed in that war, either, and the fact that most people tend to forget is that the United States hasn’t faced a serious invasion or threat of invasion of its soil since The War of 1812. Pearl Harbor doesn’t count. It was a territory, not a state, taken from its indigenous habitants for economic reasons. What we’re left with today is a military that is largely used as the global enforcement arm of industrial capitalism, not protection of our “freedoms.”
Folks, I’m here to tell you and your children have been fed a steady stream of lies.
Hayduke and others argue that the draft is the best way of stopping the war, and this could very well be true, since the country club set will vehemently object to having their little rep tie wearing Winthrop’s sent off to war. Goodbye Hampton-Sydney and Sigma Chi. Hello Baghdad and car bombs.
I’ve objected to the war from the start and for reasons that should be obvious to anyone with a functioning brain. And I’m also here to tell you that my two sons aren’t going anywhere. They don’t want to support the war, and I won’t allow them to be used as pawns in a capitalist tragedy.
My initial reaction to all of this is to grab the scatter gun and tell the feds to come and try. I suppose this is rooted in my Southern heritage (we have a history of being willing to fight the feds, you might recall) and from spending too much time studying the Civil War. Maybe I took Abbey’s Fire On The Mountain a little too seriously. For those unfamiliar with this great book, it’s a story of an old New Mexico rancher, John Vogelin, that refuses to sell his ranch property to the government. The government needs it for “the national defense.” For the expansion of a missile range, as I recall.
This, of course, is foolish talk and will most certainly get me killed. One bullet from a sniper sitting at my neighbor’s (who would gladly assist the war effort) house, and I’m food for the beetles.
Guess we could leave, but where do you go? There’s nowhere to hide.
Declare ourselves pacifists that object to the war on moral principles, but how the hell does that work when you are depending on irrational people to make a reasonable decision?
Prison, like Paul Bondi? Bondi is a character in The Brave Cowboy that is sent to prison for two years for refusing to register for the draft. Jack Burns gets himself thrown into jail in order to free Bondi, but Bondi refuses to leave because he refuses to be “haunted by surrender for the rest of his life.”
Choices, none of which are easy. The one thing that does seem clear is we must resist. We must not give in, and we must stand firm on the principle of non-violence, regardless of the cost.
I wish I had had a father like you when I was facing draft registration in 1967. My father was career Air Force, and I was too ignorant to resist and not sign the damned registration papers. Yes, I couldn’t have gotten my Work/Study wages in college, nor my student loan for my graduate studies. I might have done something else, such as work for a living.
But I signed the papers, dropped them off at the Post Office, went to Denver, where I was inspected, detected, infected, and, because I had an elite college deferment, not selected.
Turned out my draft number was fifteen, and they were waiting for me on the platform when I got my diploma. So I fooled em all. In 1971, I enlisted in the Air Force, like my Daddy, and went to Officer Training School, where I broke a blood vessel in my left eye during primary flight training, was no longer qualified for Pilot, got out and was considered prior service after only 165 days in the military.
Of all the gifts the gifties gi’e us, that was, all in all, the sweetest.
I was gobsmacked enough with the military machine to wake up and figure out what it was all about. I’ve been an anti-militarist ever since.
If it hadn’t a been for the draft, I might never have learned!
My dad, too, is ex-military. the difference is that he personally offered to take my brother to Canada in such a case, but he still listens to Rush, votes republican, and even used the N word in my presence the other day. I was so flabbergasted and shocked that, since I was driving out there where all the SUVs are, I had to immediately get off the phone. I will be addressing that issue when I am sitting still. Not that it will do much good. I am the black sheep, pinko-liberal-commie-tattooed-weirdo of the family, and on top of that, I don’t go to church. So it is not like what I say will have much effect – but I will still say it, on the off chance Dad will come to his senses.
You commented on a post where I talked about “sign vandalism” by some folks around these parts. Well it seems they are up to their old tricks, more signs have been “done up.” I know this has absolutely nothing to do with your post, but it put me in an awfully cheerful mood to know this wasn’t a one time thing. There might be hope yet!