Team Infidel
Forum Spin Doctor
Wall Street Journal
September 16, 2008
Pg. 1
Preparedness Includes Enlisting Volunteers to Hear the Pleadings of Fake Objectors
By Michael M. Phillips
MUSTANG, Okla. -- Draft boards are forgotten, but not gone.
Thirty-five years have passed since the last American man stood before his local draft board and asked to be excused from military service. But in case the draft returns, the Selective Service System is still recruiting civilians to determine which conscripts deserve a pass from Uncle Sam.
"The draft is an insurance policy," said Oklahoma Army National Guard Maj. Greg Park, as 15 volunteers raised their right hands and swore in as draft-board members at a community center here. "The draft is the last line of defense for our country."
The Selective Service System has the awkward task of persuading citizens to sit on draft boards that may never be activated, at a time when most Americans don't know such things exist, all while the U.S. is fighting wars on two fronts.
Should Congress decide to reinstate the draft, the Selective Service would have 190 days to start delivering draftees to the military. To be prepared, the agency has local draft boards picked, trained and ready to pass judgment on those who claim to be conscientious objectors, ministers or others eligible for deferments or exemptions.
So far, Congress has shown no appetite for the draft, although Rep. Charles Rangel, a New York Democrat, has repeatedly proposed legislation mandating military or civilian service. Mr. Rangel says lawmakers and administration officials would be less inclined to wage war if their children were subject to conscription.
"The country's a little war weary," said Ted Bowling, a 53-year-old financial adviser who joined the Stephens County, Okla., draft board last month. "I think it would be hard for people to accept a draft. But if it becomes necessary, we'd have to buck up and do it."
Under U.S. law, draft boards must sift ticklish moral and practical questions: Which doctors are needed more at home? How deeply held are the beliefs of conscientious objectors? Which family hardships are so burdensome that military service should be delayed?
To prepare, draft-board members practice sitting in judgment of fictional draftees. "To be candid, you will be handling a difficult and often thankless job," Selective Service Director William Chatfield said in a video played for the draft-board members gathered in Mustang.
Flash Point
Conscription has been a flash point from its earliest days, often over questions of fairness. An 1863 law allowed draftees to buy their way out of the Civil War. The exemptions sparked anger during the draft lottery in New York City, leading to four days of mayhem that left more than 1,200 dead.
Popular discontent reached another peak during the Vietnam War when some protestors burned their draft cards. College students kept the draft at bay with educational deferments. The sons of the influential sometimes secured coveted spots in the National Guard, which at the time was a virtual guarantee that they'd avoid combat.
At first, the practice was to induct the oldest eligible men first, starting with those who were 25. It wasn't until 1969 that a lottery system was introduced; with TV cameras running, a white-haired congressman from New York drew blue capsules containing 365 birth dates from a large vase. The first birth date was assigned No. 1, and men born that day were the first to be called up.
By the time the last man inducted during the Vietnam era got his draft notice on June 30, 1973, 1.9 million had been conscripted. Another 170,000 had been granted conscientious-objector status.
Obligatory service ended with the Vietnam War. But in 1980, in response to the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, President Jimmy Carter reinstated draft registration for men 18 to 25 and began rebuilding draft boards.
These days, given how far the draft has faded from view, recruiters tend to seek volunteers among their friends, family and work colleagues. Maj. Park, a 48-year-old from Watonga, Okla., is a financial adviser for Edward Jones; it's no coincidence that five of the new Oklahoma board members also work for the investment firm. If he doesn't know anyone in a particular county, Maj. Park asks the Chamber of Commerce for the name of the local bank president or another luminary.
The Selective Service System has a relatively small $22 million budget, and board members are unpaid. Army National Guard Lt. Col. Teresa Lynch, 51, had to fight for enough funds to reimburse board members for gasoline money to get to a recent Saturday training session held at Mustang's community center. Board members had to pay for their own hotels and meals.
During training, board members held a mock hearing for Steven Blair, a troubled albeit fictional youth who held up a convenience store, underwent a jailhouse religious awakening and was now seeking a special Class 2-D deferral for divinity students. His fictional pastor praised Mr. Blair's devotion.
On the other hand, he had failed his class on Doctrines of the Nazareth Bible Church.
"What's your ultimate goal?" asked Oklahoma board member Gene Downing, 63, owner of Downing Wellhead Equipment Inc., and one of Maj. Park's clients.
"To become a minister and help other young men who have lost their way," Mr. Blair -- played by Maj. Park -- responded.
"What is John 3:16?" Mr. Downing continued.
Mr. Blair/Maj. Park was stumped. Then he reached for a cigarette.
The exchange left draft-board members unsure of Mr. Blair's spiritual intentions. But Lt. Col. Lynch reminded them the Selective Service System doesn't care whether the draftee is truly pious. For divinity-student deferrals, all that matters is that the draftee is making satisfactory progress toward the ministry in a recognized religious organization. Maj. Park also reminded board members that all recognized, organized religions are equal in the eyes of the draft law.
The board members granted Mr. Blair his mock deferral.
Conscientious-objector cases tend to be more complicated. The law requires board members to decide whether the draftee's refusal springs from heartfelt religious or ethical concerns. In one videotaped scenario, one fictional character, a "Mr. Connolly," told the draft board he couldn't serve because a college philosophy class convinced him war is "nothing more than organized slaughter."
He read his statement from cue cards, in a stilted way. He brought a philosophy professor along as a witness, but she rambled about nuclear war, not the depth of Mr. Connolly's beliefs.
Halfway through his hearing, Mr. Connolly changed course: "I guess I could be a medic or something."
Two draft-board members voted to classify him 1-A-O, which would allow him to serve in the military in a noncombat capacity. The rest deemed him 1-A, ripe for the draft.
"I didn't think he had a strong basis for his stated belief," said board member John Harris, 60, and another Edward Jones financial adviser.
In 1967, Mr. Harris enlisted in the Coast Guard and asked to be sent to Vietnam. It was, he says now, a reflection of his "blind faith" in the infallibility of the military and the government.
He ended up serving on Lake Michigan. By the time he left the service, Mr. Harris thought the war futile and the government fallible, vulnerable to undue pressure from the rich and powerful. He says he accepted Maj. Park's invitation to join the Grady County, Okla., draft board to ensure every draftee gets a fair hearing.
"I have a very strong commitment to the responsibility of citizens to participate in defending and protecting our country," Mr. Harris said. "Because of that, I have a strong commitment to having somebody sitting between the military and an individual who might be claiming to be a conscientious objector."
September 16, 2008
Pg. 1
Preparedness Includes Enlisting Volunteers to Hear the Pleadings of Fake Objectors
By Michael M. Phillips
MUSTANG, Okla. -- Draft boards are forgotten, but not gone.
Thirty-five years have passed since the last American man stood before his local draft board and asked to be excused from military service. But in case the draft returns, the Selective Service System is still recruiting civilians to determine which conscripts deserve a pass from Uncle Sam.
"The draft is an insurance policy," said Oklahoma Army National Guard Maj. Greg Park, as 15 volunteers raised their right hands and swore in as draft-board members at a community center here. "The draft is the last line of defense for our country."
The Selective Service System has the awkward task of persuading citizens to sit on draft boards that may never be activated, at a time when most Americans don't know such things exist, all while the U.S. is fighting wars on two fronts.
Should Congress decide to reinstate the draft, the Selective Service would have 190 days to start delivering draftees to the military. To be prepared, the agency has local draft boards picked, trained and ready to pass judgment on those who claim to be conscientious objectors, ministers or others eligible for deferments or exemptions.
So far, Congress has shown no appetite for the draft, although Rep. Charles Rangel, a New York Democrat, has repeatedly proposed legislation mandating military or civilian service. Mr. Rangel says lawmakers and administration officials would be less inclined to wage war if their children were subject to conscription.
"The country's a little war weary," said Ted Bowling, a 53-year-old financial adviser who joined the Stephens County, Okla., draft board last month. "I think it would be hard for people to accept a draft. But if it becomes necessary, we'd have to buck up and do it."
Under U.S. law, draft boards must sift ticklish moral and practical questions: Which doctors are needed more at home? How deeply held are the beliefs of conscientious objectors? Which family hardships are so burdensome that military service should be delayed?
To prepare, draft-board members practice sitting in judgment of fictional draftees. "To be candid, you will be handling a difficult and often thankless job," Selective Service Director William Chatfield said in a video played for the draft-board members gathered in Mustang.
Flash Point
Conscription has been a flash point from its earliest days, often over questions of fairness. An 1863 law allowed draftees to buy their way out of the Civil War. The exemptions sparked anger during the draft lottery in New York City, leading to four days of mayhem that left more than 1,200 dead.
Popular discontent reached another peak during the Vietnam War when some protestors burned their draft cards. College students kept the draft at bay with educational deferments. The sons of the influential sometimes secured coveted spots in the National Guard, which at the time was a virtual guarantee that they'd avoid combat.
At first, the practice was to induct the oldest eligible men first, starting with those who were 25. It wasn't until 1969 that a lottery system was introduced; with TV cameras running, a white-haired congressman from New York drew blue capsules containing 365 birth dates from a large vase. The first birth date was assigned No. 1, and men born that day were the first to be called up.
By the time the last man inducted during the Vietnam era got his draft notice on June 30, 1973, 1.9 million had been conscripted. Another 170,000 had been granted conscientious-objector status.
Obligatory service ended with the Vietnam War. But in 1980, in response to the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, President Jimmy Carter reinstated draft registration for men 18 to 25 and began rebuilding draft boards.
These days, given how far the draft has faded from view, recruiters tend to seek volunteers among their friends, family and work colleagues. Maj. Park, a 48-year-old from Watonga, Okla., is a financial adviser for Edward Jones; it's no coincidence that five of the new Oklahoma board members also work for the investment firm. If he doesn't know anyone in a particular county, Maj. Park asks the Chamber of Commerce for the name of the local bank president or another luminary.
The Selective Service System has a relatively small $22 million budget, and board members are unpaid. Army National Guard Lt. Col. Teresa Lynch, 51, had to fight for enough funds to reimburse board members for gasoline money to get to a recent Saturday training session held at Mustang's community center. Board members had to pay for their own hotels and meals.
During training, board members held a mock hearing for Steven Blair, a troubled albeit fictional youth who held up a convenience store, underwent a jailhouse religious awakening and was now seeking a special Class 2-D deferral for divinity students. His fictional pastor praised Mr. Blair's devotion.
On the other hand, he had failed his class on Doctrines of the Nazareth Bible Church.
"What's your ultimate goal?" asked Oklahoma board member Gene Downing, 63, owner of Downing Wellhead Equipment Inc., and one of Maj. Park's clients.
"To become a minister and help other young men who have lost their way," Mr. Blair -- played by Maj. Park -- responded.
"What is John 3:16?" Mr. Downing continued.
Mr. Blair/Maj. Park was stumped. Then he reached for a cigarette.
The exchange left draft-board members unsure of Mr. Blair's spiritual intentions. But Lt. Col. Lynch reminded them the Selective Service System doesn't care whether the draftee is truly pious. For divinity-student deferrals, all that matters is that the draftee is making satisfactory progress toward the ministry in a recognized religious organization. Maj. Park also reminded board members that all recognized, organized religions are equal in the eyes of the draft law.
The board members granted Mr. Blair his mock deferral.
Conscientious-objector cases tend to be more complicated. The law requires board members to decide whether the draftee's refusal springs from heartfelt religious or ethical concerns. In one videotaped scenario, one fictional character, a "Mr. Connolly," told the draft board he couldn't serve because a college philosophy class convinced him war is "nothing more than organized slaughter."
He read his statement from cue cards, in a stilted way. He brought a philosophy professor along as a witness, but she rambled about nuclear war, not the depth of Mr. Connolly's beliefs.
Halfway through his hearing, Mr. Connolly changed course: "I guess I could be a medic or something."
Two draft-board members voted to classify him 1-A-O, which would allow him to serve in the military in a noncombat capacity. The rest deemed him 1-A, ripe for the draft.
"I didn't think he had a strong basis for his stated belief," said board member John Harris, 60, and another Edward Jones financial adviser.
In 1967, Mr. Harris enlisted in the Coast Guard and asked to be sent to Vietnam. It was, he says now, a reflection of his "blind faith" in the infallibility of the military and the government.
He ended up serving on Lake Michigan. By the time he left the service, Mr. Harris thought the war futile and the government fallible, vulnerable to undue pressure from the rich and powerful. He says he accepted Maj. Park's invitation to join the Grady County, Okla., draft board to ensure every draftee gets a fair hearing.
"I have a very strong commitment to the responsibility of citizens to participate in defending and protecting our country," Mr. Harris said. "Because of that, I have a strong commitment to having somebody sitting between the military and an individual who might be claiming to be a conscientious objector."