Jim Lampley’s story of publicly ripping up his draft card that night back in ‘68 beats my pathetic story of Selective Service resistance by about a quart and a half of testosterone. Not only because he clearly doesn’t have my fear of large crowds but mostly because of the plain, unavoidable fact that he resisted and I didn’t.
Now in my defense, Jim himself points out that he was staring down the barrel of the Tet Offensive, while I, ten years later, was merely asked by the government, and rather politely I might add, to register my name with them in the event that the draft was reinstated. As I recall, the military was having recruitment problems with their new all-volunteer army and a movement was afoot to bring back conscription, so they’d begun taking down names of all male, draft-age citizens. I guess you could say it was kind of like the government taking class attendance, only in this case, if you raised your hand and said “Here”, you stood a reasonably good chance of getting shot at. But probably not. But maybe.
In any event, I remember being deeply conflicted about what to do. To register felt like a betrayal of sorts, a renunciation of everything I’d grown up believing. That the Vietnam War was wrong. That the military-industrial complex was to be feared. That politicians couldn’t be trusted. Well, I still believe the war was wrong and I remain leery at best of the military and while I would no longer make such a sweeping generalization that all politicians are untrustworthy, I still wouldn’t leave any loose change lying around if one happened to be in the same room as me.
But I guess the fact that my 18-year-old self hesitated before submitting my personal information indicated that the spirit of the 60’s was still somewhat alive in me. Now, I’m not saying that’s either a good or a bad thing -- just that my memory of a tumultuous time, when people had strongly-held opinions that they tended to share with each other at high volume and at close range, was still fresh enough to make me pause before I dropped that card in the mailbox. To this day I don't know if that act branded me a coward or a patriot.
I refuse to believe that the world has changed so much that 18-year-olds today are any more anxious to die or be maimed on the battlefield than I was back in the late '70s. But given all the talk about the possible reinstatement of the draft, why aren't we hearing more from the nation’s campuses? Is there resistance brewing and it's just not getting reported? Or is it, as I think Jim is suggesting, that college-aged students have become so narcotized by our entertainment-obsessed culture that they don’t see what may be headed their way?
I'm willing to be convinced that's too easy an interpretation and that this is just more evidence that I've officially become a dinosaur and that what I’m perceiving as complacency and apathy is actually tacit approval. But it sure doesn’t feel that way. In any case, the distinctions will hardly matter if a new generation of kids suddenly finds itself being fitted for battle fatigues and wondering how they got there.