The Courage Primary

(5 of 5)

National Service
Why this? Why not entitlement reform? Why not immigration? Yes, I admit, it's very much a personal preference—and a lonely one at that—but it goes to the heart of what makes for a healthy democracy. And I believe that the failure of my generation, the baby boomers, to sacrifice for the nation in any significant way, as our parents did, is the source of much of the sourness and corrosion that afflict our public life. In a new book, Are We Rome?, Cullen Murphy avoids the standard imperial clichés but finds some interesting parallels, especially the notion that the Roman Empire began to falter when it started hiring out major functions of the government, including military service, to private contractors. Murphy cites the use of corporations like Halliburton to provide services that the military used to perform—like preparing food (or KP duty)—as an example of paying other people to do what Americans should do for themselves. And while the all-volunteer U.S. Army is a far cry from the barbarian mercenaries that Rome eventually used to fill out its legions, there is a dangerous chasm growing between the U.S. military—a subculture with a bracing value system emphasizing service, discipline and common purpose—and the slovenly culture at large. "In my Princeton class of '56, 450 of the 750 graduates served in the military," says Charles Moskos of Northwestern University, a military historian. "Elvis Presley was drafted the same year I was. In last year's Princeton class, only 9 out of 1,100 graduates served in the military."

Moskos favors a return of the military draft, and so do I, with modifications. I have no illusions about this. It's not a very popular idea, and especially not with the military brass, who love their all-volunteer army. So let me try to make it more palatable. Not every 18-year-old would be pressed into two years of military service. Other options would be available: service as homeland- and border-security guards or airport check-in inspectors. In each of these cases, two years' service as a draftee would be the first step in a career ladder if you wanted to become, say, a professional border guard. College deferments would be available, but they would come with a price: a third year of mandatory service for a bachelor's degree, a fourth year for an advanced degree. College graduates would also have the option, if they qualified and received intensive training, of working off their student loans by serving as military officers, teachers, police officers, social-service caseworkers, nurses and paramedics. But everyone would serve, and the decision to go to war, say, in Iraq would immediately become a personal one for members of the élite as well as for professional soldiers. The frustrations of teaching or fighting crime would also become better known to a broader swath of future business leaders. And a history of rigorous public service would become a necessary credential for anyone who wanted to be elected President of the U.S.

As I've thought about these issues, a pattern has emerged: they are synergistic, mutually reinforcing. They fit together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. National service would produce more quality teachers; the Wyden plan would transfer money into teacher salaries and away from health benefits; the New Commission on the Skills of the American Workforce would produce the scientists and engineers necessary to achieve energy independence. When you put the jigsaw puzzle together, the nation that emerges is more equitable, more efficient, with a reinvigorated citizenry—a safer and more powerful nation, braced by the power of moral example as well as military supremacy.

None of these goals are impossible; some may even be achievable. All that's required is some political courage, which is not a natural commodity in an election year. Indeed, there is only one sure way to inspire courage in politicians. We must demand it. If they choose to avoid these and other serious issues, we should make it clear that we are going to avoid voting for them.