Patriotism

A member of my writing group recently described his draft deferment during the Vietnam War as a “shameful” episode in his life. The short version of his story is that after suffering from clinical depression he was finally getting his life back on track and had been accepted to medical school when his draft notice arrived. Serving meant a delay at the least, death at the worst. He thoughtfully planned his own funeral to spare his family but rejoiced when he won his appeal. Now, looking back on his life, he is ashamed that he avoided the sacrifice that so many others made.

We did not agree with him. Most of us had opposed the war. We saw our friends’ unwillingness to serve as an act of courage.  Our protests were our form of patriotism.  But I too now feel a sense of shame about how I acted, because I made no effort to understand the young men who chose to serve. Only years later did I work with Vietnam Vets and get to understand their bravery and their suffering.

I might be forgiven my lack of empathy because of my youth at that time, but what about now? Last night President-Elect Biden urged us to stop the “demonizing,” but I’m not sure how. Not when I am obligated to confront racism, anti-Semitism, and misogyny and when those who disagree with the results of the election march with AR-15 rifles.  I cannot understand them and see no way to engage in civil discourse.  Their anger and violence have demonized them, and I have no idea how to stop that.

I have cried on and off since the election results were announced yesterday. Tears of relief, but also of sorrow, because the country I loved when I protested in 1968, and love now, has reached this divided state.