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The Spokesman-Review Newspaper
Spokane, Washington  Est. May 19, 1883

To Fight Would Have Been A Betrayal Of Spiritual Belief

Andy James Contributing Writer

Recently I had some time to kill while waiting with my two daughters inside the lobby of our small town post office. There wasn’t much for us to do except hang out and look around for anything that might amuse us.

As we explored the area, Kelley, my youngest, was drawn to a poster she had found. It wasn’t the picture of the spiffy young man, all muscles and angular features, that caught her eye. It was the message: “A man’s got to do what a man’s got to do.”

To Kelley’s 8-year-old mind, this was an incredible coincidence because it was almost like the song she hears on the radio. The song’s version has a woman doing what a woman has to do. Kelley was tickled pink by her discovery.

The poster had my eye by now, so I read on and discovered that it was a reminder to all males between the ages of 18 and 25, that they must register with the Selective Service.

Predictably, Kelley wanted to know, “What’s the Selective Service?”

Now I had to try to explain to my beloved second child about the draft. With trepidation I reentered the emotional minefield I had gratefully abandoned some 28 years ago.

During my prime cannon-fodder years, the draft was very much alive and I was fair game. Like many other men my age during the Vietnam war, I wanted no part of it. I had no inclination whatsoever to fight. I was also well aware of the consequences of refusing to fight. And I was angry with this range of options.

Regardless, I knew I would not fight in this war. The reason: It would have required a betrayal of spiritual beliefs as much a part of me as my arms and legs. That made the price of participation too high for me.

The price of my refusal, as it turned out, was not jail or Canada. A high lottery number got me off the hook. To some, though, I will never escape the brand of “draft dodger.” To them I offer neither regret nor apology.

My decision emerged from a spiritual belief so deep that there was never any hesitation on my part. I have believed since before I can even remember, that all things are connected. The effects of our angry actions and attitudes are ours to contend with as much as they are there to torment our enemies.

Conversely, our positive thoughts and constructive actions have the power to heal ourselves as well as others. War, from this perspective, is clearly insane since who but the insane would hurt themselves on purpose?

Before the momentous decision to wage war is made, we must confront the probable effects of that decision. Beyond the outright death count, there are the injured, both physical and mental, families ripped apart, post-traumatic stress syndrome, enduring hatreds, and others too numerous to note.

I was far from alone in my reluctance to accept these outcomes and today, in hindsight, many others regret our involvement in Vietnam.

Now, years later, I reflect in the post office lobby about what all this means as I struggle to raise my two daughters. How, for instance, can I explain to them why only men are required to register with the Selective Service?

Do we consider the lives of young men to be expendable still? Do I tell them that men are the natural-born warriors when I’m not? Can I justify to them men being stripped of their right to decide for themselves an issue as important as the killing of other human beings?

And what do I tell them of war in general? That its horror is necessary in order to avoid an even greater horror? Can I make that statement believing what I do about the human spirit? Are our spiritual beliefs to be set aside in the face of a government’s decision?

These are thoughts I pondered as we hung out, my daughters and I. They will have to answer these questions for themselves as I have myself. A man’s got to do what a man’s got to do, so let me state my position plainly: Forcing anyone to wage war should be considered a human-rights violation.

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