Draft Nix

Escape Hatch: With speculation about the return of a military draft creeping into the public's subconscious, Kevin Ramirez of the Philadelphia-based Central Committee for Conscientious Objectors suspects chickenhawks will always be able to keep their kids out of harm's way. Photo By: Michael T. Regan

Locals fret the return of mandatory military service.

by Doron Taussig

In one of the more memorable scenes from Fahrenheit 9/11, Michael Moore stands on a Washington corner and asks passing congressmen to volunteer their children for the war in Iraq. Of the 535 members of Congress, Moore laments, only one has a child serving in the United States Armed Forces. The bit gets a variety of reactions — one congressman stares at Moore incredulously, another hurries away, a third claims to support the idea while waving goodbye — but no signatures. Moore's effort is clearly rhetorical but the rhetoric has been a common refrain for anti-warriors: if "chickenhawks" who support this war had to send their own kids off to fight it, they wouldn't be so trigger-happy.

In 2003, U.S. Rep. Charles Rangel thought he had a plan to transform the chickenhawks into mere chickens: He introduced legislation to bring back the draft.

"If indeed the president believes war is necessary in terms of our national welfare," Rangel said, "then he has to believe that sacrifices need to be made, and those sacrifices need to be shared."

The New York Democrat who represents a district in Harlem says his constituents' demographic shoulders too much of the burden of war — minorities make up 37 percent of the military and only about a quarter of the populace. Rangel said he hoped the threat of a draft would send a message about socioeconomic parity and perhaps galvanize antiwar sentiment. He didn't expect the legislation to pass any more than Moore expected to enlist soldiers. Yet ever since Rangel introduced his bill, the idea of a draft has steadily crept back into the country's consciousness.

The past few months have brought an increase in traffic to Web sites such as stopthedraft.com. (Administrator Barry Zellen says it's getting 10,000 hits per month, a tenfold increase from two years ago.) There have also been opinion pieces in major papers debating the merits of conscription and more calls to congressional offices expressing concern that soon — perhaps following the November election — America will drop "volunteer" from its volunteer army.

Anyone who hasn't spent the last year detained in Gitmo knows the U.S. military is overextended. While President Bush realigns troops and extends tours in order to finish the job in Iraq, John Kerry is promising to add 40,000 new soldiers to the ranks. Thus far, military retention and recruitment numbers appear to be holding steady, but Americans are wondering where additional troops will come from, especially if we keep rattling our sabers at Iran and North Korea.

Recent tweaks and changes by the Selective Service, the agency responsible for organizing a draft should Congress authorize one, have augmented these concerns. Disbanded at the end of the Vietnam War, the service was reactivated in 1980 and has appeared to be gearing up for something. This year, the Selective Service expects to place registrars in an additional 20 percent of the nation's high schools (to a total of 85 percent), as well as to test the activation process for a draft. They've also done some recent recruiting for volunteers to fill vacancies on the local draft boards responsible for assessing draftees' claims for exemptions. Officials say that draft-board recruiting was "routine public outreach to compensate for natural board attrition" as the appointees' 20-year terms expired. In any case, four local Philadelphia boards are fully staffed, according to Tom White, the service's regional director for the Northeast and Midwest.

Still, officials bluntly deny a draft is imminent. Visitors to the Selective Service's Web site encounter a message stating, "Notwithstanding recent stories in the news media and on the Internet, Selective Service is not getting ready to conduct a draft for the U.S. Armed Forces." Pentagon officials assert a draft won't be necessary in the war on terrorism, and Rangel's bill has received next to no support in Congress. On top of all this, poll numbers indicate a solid 70 percent of Americans are opposed to reinstating the draft, and the bottom line is that there won't be a draft unless Congress approves it.

"Short of a major offensive launched against the United States or a vital ally, I cannot imagine a return to the draft," says Richard Immerman, a Temple University military expert. "Not only would it be too politically costly to propose as legislation, but it would be tantamount to conceding that the current volunteer military is incapable."

bad luck of the draw: U.S. Rep. Alexander Pirnie determines the fate of a slew of young Americans as he pulls out the first capsule in the Vietnam draft lottery in 1969.

: courtesy of selective service

One of the important pragmatic arguments made against conscription is that it would bring nonmilitary professionals into the military, and Pentagon officials have questions about the effectiveness of such soldiers.

Draftees add "no value, no advantage to the United States armed services over any sustained period of time," Donald Rumsfeld said in response to a question about Rangel's proposal. Rumsfeld eventually apologized for "misinterpreted" remarks that were "not eloquently stated," while insisting that he "can't imagine" a draft.

"People think it is some big government conspiracy," House Armed Services Committee spokesman Harald Stavenas told The New York Times.

If the U.S. ever does reinstate the draft, the Selective Service will first conduct a public "birthday lottery." If, for example, July 3 drew first in the lottery, all men who turned 20 on July 3 of that year will be inducted first, followed by men who turned 21, 22, and so forth up to 26. Induction notices will then be sent to those men whose birthdays drew the lowest lottery numbers. Inductees will then be ordered to report for physical, mental and moral evaluation. Those who qualify will be ordered to serve.

Women will not be drafted, unless Congress' bill stipulates otherwise. Conscientious-objector status will only be available to those individuals whose "lifestyle prior to making [their] claim" reflected their avowed belief system. Unlike during Vietnam, deferments will not be available to college students, except to complete current semesters. (Apparently, Dick Cheney used them all up.)

Theoretically, the removal of college deferments would eliminate the socioeconomic disparities that tainted the Vietnam-era draft. The Vietnam War lasted a decade and claimed 58,000 American lives; not one child of a congressman died in combat. During that war, some wealthy young men had their medical records carefully manipulated so as to make them appear unfit to serve; others used personal connections to ensure noncombat positions in the National Guard and Reserves.

African-Americans, underrepresented on draft boards, rarely obtained deferments and made up a disproportionate amount of those drafted — 11 percent to 16 percent of the population.

Kevin Ramirez of the Philadelphia-based Central Committee for Conscientious Objectors, an organization that opposes the military and encourages people of color to resist recruiting, doubts those obstacles would be overcome. Given that politicians and their friends have children, Ramirez says, "There's never going to be a draft written into law without ways out."

Ramirez fears that Rangel is playing with fire. Though CCCO feels strongly that the heavy military recruiting of people who lack other options constitutes a "poverty draft," he asserts that demilitarization is the appropriate response. "If you're against the war, why are you pushing for a draft?" he asks.

Rangel spokesman Emile Milne says the congressman stands behind his legislation and has received a "mixed reaction" from his constituents — some are afraid, but "overall it was favorable."

Still, some don't accept the premise that the military is an unfair burden on the poor. Dan Gomez, the Southeast Regional Chair of the Young Conservatives of Pennsylvania, contends that "special forces, which have had a particularly difficult amount of fighting in Afghanistan and Iraq" draw heavily from a more affluent population. As it stands now, he says, the most under-represented demographic in the military is as it should be: people who didn't enlist.

Five young men are sitting in Rittenhouse Square. Their bare arms are colorful with tattoos, and sunlight glints off the metal decorating their faces. They are bike messengers, and there is nothing "military" about any of them. Yet, in the event of a draft, young men their age will be asked to serve.

"I sometimes think about it," says one, but "it's not going to happen."

The others agree but say they don't plan on showing up if they're wrong.

"I'd fucking run to Canada," says a 24-year-old who identifies himself as Avery.

"I'd just show up in a dress," says another. "I'd tell them, "I can't wait to be surrounded by so many men!'"

"In this day and age, there's no war worth fighting," Avery adds. "Everything's going to be the same kind of shit."

Over at the University of Pennsylvania, students' opinions about what they would do if one occurred are more diverse.

The Young Conservatives' Gomez, 20, pegs the draft's imminent return unlikely and unnecessary. But if called, he says, he would serve because "it is an obligation and a service to a country that has provided and defended our freedoms."

Patrick Ercole, a 21-year-old self-described moderate, says, "Not going would be like those NBA players who didn't go to the Olympics to represent their country."

But Jamie-Lee Josselyn, 21, says that if women were called she would not serve. "I don't know exactly what I would do — maybe be a conscientious objector," she says. "There's no way I could put my life on the line for something I don't believe in."

At the playground at 18th and Wallace, young men expressed more credulity about the draft's likelihood. They also expressed more surprise when asked what they would do if drafted.

"I would go," says Rashon Christopher, a 22-year-old Art Institute student. He adds that he always wanted to join the Marines but couldn't because of a heart murmur. He has a brother fighting in Iraq, who he says "shouldn't be over there" because it's a bad war.

This trend is consistent with what the CCCO says is a pattern in calls to its Philadelphia office. Tami Nopper, who answers those phones, says white, middle-class callers tend to view it as a radical encroachment on their freedom. They seek resources, such as lawyers or conscientious-objector status, to help them resist conscription. But most poorer people, many of whom are people of color, can't seem to imagine finding such unique resources in the face of a draft.

Says Nopper, "They have a hard enough time resisting the military recruiters who prowl their schools and communities targeting people of color to join the military."