Well, this should be terrifying to any American aged 18-34. Read it.

A few weeks ago, Christine and I were driving down the street, listening to the liberal talk radio station that I’m perpetually tuned to, and they were discussing the possible reinstatement of the draft. I asked Christine if she would be willing to move to England with me should that happen. (Canada, unfortunately, is no longer an option for the draft-dodger. They’ve worked out treaties with the US to send them back.)

She said no.

She did, however, mention the possibility of Ireland, and I intend to hold her to that. I absolutely will not serve in the American military under the current administration.

I don’t want to avoid military service because I’m a coward, or because I’m not a patriot, or because I hate freedom, or because of any of the other reasons that a recruiter may give you. I love this country, I love the freedoms it was founded on, and I love what this country used to stand for.

I am not against the idea of military service. My great uncle Ed was a tail gunner in the Pacific theater in World War II, and I’m proud to claim a close relation having served honorably in such a pivotal event in history. There are scenarios where I would voluntarily enlist, but they would have to be damn good reasons… the only ones I can think of would be a full-scale military invasion of the continental US or a nuclear war which we did not initiate.

My primary reason for being against military service is because I am completely and totally against the policies of the Bush administration. The man is a liar, a thief, and a symbol for everything that is wrong with America. If I worked for the government, I’d need to know, not suspect, not hope, know that I was fighting for something that was worthwhile and honorable. I know that in George Bush’s America, I couldn’t possibly believe that what I would be fighting for would be anything more than an extension of his lies and delusions.

Secondarily, I find violence to be abhorrent. While I practice martial arts, I do so to learn to defend myself (and others) and to stay in shape. I don’t start fights, and I walk away when I can. Since I started learning martial arts more than four years ago, I have been involved in only two altercations. Both times alcohol was involved, and both times cooler heads prevailed before anything of consequence happened. I regret my lack of restraint on both occasions and hope to do better if similar circumstances arise. I may know strikes and combinations that could easily incapacitate or seriously injure an opponent, but I’m still the guy that would rather painstakingly catch and release a spider than kill it. I often say things like, “So-and-so deserves to be beaten to death” or “Dubya should be publicly crucified upside down,” but I don’t mean it. I couldn’t willfully cause that degree of suffering in another human being.

And thirdly, if I knew that I had been directly or indirectly responsible for the death of another human being, I couldn’t face myself in the mirror. I remember being young and reading that when you kill someone, you lose a part of yourself. It’s gone forever, and nothing you do can bring it back. I think that whatever that part is—I can’t even identify it because I’ve never been without it—is an essential part of my humanity. I have no intention of killing one stranger at the behest of another stranger because one of them happens to be on “my side.”

I hope that I’ve made my case in a way that’s understandable to most people. While I believe in the ideals of America, I don’t believe that fighting for them is the way to go about defending them.