Posted on by rjonakait

Big Government Makes Killers

            “We have got to get the government off our backs.” “Government is too big.” “Big government destroys our freedoms.” With words of varying civility, this is a common chant. Right now we hear that Flock cameras promote mass surveillance by the government even though the devices can make us safer by helping to find car thieves, hit and run and getaway drivers, and other violent criminals. We hear that governmental vaccine mandates violate parental rights and freedom of religion even though the vaccinations reduce sicknesses and deaths. Big government is a popular target with the frequent assumption that in earlier days we had a small government; in earlier days we had more liberty. This was not always true.

For example, Jim Crow laws legislated social relationships and mandated increased public and private expenditures by requiring duplicate facilities. Yet those who yearn for the age of small government seldom mention this epitome of big government imposition or how long it endured.

            Because of my northern, small-town roots, I was not directly affected by Jim Crow, but I was affected by another, now defunct, big government program—the military draft. To someone my age, the draft needs no explanation, but I found that many of my students, a generation or two younger than I am, not only did not know that it existed, but could not believe that it ever was the law of the land. But, yes, men (only men, not women) could be required to join the armed services. Put in slightly different terms, the government could force men from their homes and jobs and families for years and place them in a position where there was the possibility that they would have to kill or be killed. Was any government power ever larger?

            Even if you weren’t drafted, you were affected by its existence, as I learned early. In sixth grade, Glen and I hung out at George’s service station. A couple of high school boys worked there part-time. One day they discussed what they would do after high school and whether they should get some vocational training. Gary said, “No. I’m just going to get any job I can until I am drafted.” In short, he was going to wait until after his forced military service to figure out the course of his life.

            The draft led many to enlist. Perhaps part of the motivation for enlisting was public service and patriotism, but part was that an enlistee, unlike a draftee, could choose the branch of the armed services he would go into, and the college-graduate enlistee could be an officer while the college-graduate draftee was a private. I have many friends my age, often graduates of the country’s most selective universities, who were officers in the armed services while the draft existed. I wonder if I had come of age when the draft was abolished, would I know as many veterans as I do.

            The draft affected education and job choices. College males got deferments; that is, they would not be drafted while in school. And for a long time, deferments were also given for graduate school. In my generation, only those from 18 to 26 were drafted. Back then, no one took a “gap year” before college or graduate school. We knew that such a time off from school might find us not backpacking in Europebut backpacking in Vietnam. One of the reasons so many of my generation may have gone to law or business school is the draft deferment it offered. (Not so for medical school. Doctors got drafted at 26 and beyond because not enough doctors enlisted. Go watch M*A*S*H). 

            If, however, you finished all this education by 24 or 25, you still had to make it until 26. Ah, but for some jobs, you also got a deferment. Public school teaching was one. Teach until 26, and then start your real career. Many of my generation had a brief stint as a middle school teacher.

            The draft was not only big government because it could intrude into every corner of a life, it was also big because it produced a huge bureaucracy. Nearly every county in the country had a Selective Service (the official name for the draft) office with one or more paid workers as well as volunteer (I think) boards. (Does anyone know who came up with “selective service”?) And, of course, regional and national offices. Paperwork galore.

            Both aspects of the big government came together for me in my second year of law school. For reasons I supported, deferments for graduate school ended, but they ended just as I began my legal studies. This was at the height (or shall we say, depth) of the Vietnam War. And thus, one day during a break in my classes, I found the dreaded missive that had what was then the famous salutation, “Greetings.” I was being drafted pending a physical exam, for which I had to return to my home county.

            It wasn’t as though I hadn’t thought about being in the army, but the draft notice certainly focused my attention on the realities of military life. It was more than a little hard to concentrate on the law of corporations with the army looming. Part of the obsessive thoughts that followed the draft notice were about the war that the U.S. was then bogged down in, but more of my thoughts just went to basic training, which I dreaded — and for good reason.

I had partially dislocated my shoulder years before, and I had done it many times since—putting on a coat, turning over in my sleep, placing a pizza in a car’s back seat, playing volleyball, basketball, softball. I knew it would partially dislocate any time I really threw a ball hard. It hurt like hell, but when it happened, I could grab the right elbow with my left hand, pull the arm, and seat the arm back in its socket. This was a condition I knew too well, but it was not one that had been certified by a doctor. I had gone to the college infirmary the day after it first happened, but by then the joint appeared to be back together properly. Nothing looked wrong to that general practitioner.

But now I started to fixate on the images of army training where recruits had to climb ropes and scale walls and throw decoy hand grenades. I knew that the shoulder would come apart, and all I could picture was the drill sergeant yelling at what he thought was the Ivy League malingerer writhing on the ground. I could not imagine how I was going to get through those first six army weeks. I decided I should see another doctor. I went to a local orthopedist and told him that if I threw a ball hard, I would dislocate the shoulder. He said, “Make the motion.” I told him what I already knew. With simulated throwing, I instinctively held back, and it would not happen. He said, “Try anyway.” Nothing happened, and I was sent on my way, with the doctor’s glance indicating, “Hippie draft dodger.” (Yes, I did have both long hair and mutton chop whiskers.)

I reported for my army physical. I told the doctor my situation. He, too, told me to simulate throwing. Nothing happened. I was certified physically fit to be trained to kill.

A few months later, I was ordered to yet another physical in Chicago. After spending twelve hours in an atmosphere that only the finest novelist could capture (one potential draftee had inked antiwar slogans all over his body), I saw the doctor. I told him my situation. He looked at a form and said, “You already had a physical in Milwaukee.” He asked, “What are you doing here?” I replied, “I was ordered here.” He said, “I am not going to waste my time giving another physical to someone who has already had one.”

I had gotten the induction date changed from its original fall date until after the school year ended. Friends urged me to go to Canada. Friends urged me to go to jail. I felt too much an American to leave the country, and I never considered those escape routes.

Somehow, however, through the antiwar protest grapevine I was told about a doctor in Chicago who had antiwar views. About a week before I was to go into the army, I had an appointment with him. I told him the situation. He said, “If there really is that problem, I will get you reclassified, but I will not lie.” I told him simulated throwing would not do it. But I came prepared with my baseball. With the doctor agreeing, I walked the three blocks to Grant Park and found a wall to throw the ball against. I screwed up my courage with a few easy tosses and then, I finally threw as hard as I could. Pain in the shoulder; white flashes before my eyes; arm immobile, but for the first time, I did not do what had become instinctive. I did not pull my arm back in place. Feeling the pain every step of the way, I went back to the doctor, up an elevator, and to an x-ray room with my hand stuck skyward. Blissfully, they quickly took the pictures, and I could pull the arm back together before the vomiting started. (The spouse notes that she was there with me. I note that her anguished face didn’t help much.)

When the doctor looked at the x-rays, he said, “You’re right. You have a problem. I’ll contact the army.” Then with a smile, he uttered words that only someone of my generation can truly appreciate: “You can have that fixed.” He waited a beat. “But there is no reason to do that until you are 26.”

            The draft gave men of my generation contact with big government’s bureaucracy and its control of lives. It certainly affected me. While obsessing over what the army had in store for me, I had more and more difficulty paying attention to my coursework. I dropped from near the top of my class. A job after the second year of law school was considered an important step for most of us starting a legal career, but I had never sought such a job since I was supposed to be inducted on July 1. But, of course, compared to many, this was nothing. I did not spend two years in the army. I did not die in combat. I did not have to kill Vietnamese.

            When you want to complain that our government is so big today that it destroys the freedoms of Americans, go to the Vietnam War Memorial Wall in Washington. Look at the names on Maya Lin’s creation and ask yourself, “How many of these were draftees? How many enlisted because they expected to be drafted anyway?” And then reflect on the big government of today and yesterday.

Posted on by rjonakait

Student Debt: Yours, Mine, and Ours (concluded)

          I know how concern about student debt affects life decisions. It had determined my law school choice and how I lived, which was frugally, trying to avoid any further loans. Even so, the issue of student debt was thrust at me earlier than I had expected. During my second law school year, I got a draft notice. I was able to push back the induction date until I had completed the school year. In that era of the Vietnam War, I had many concerns about going into the military. Among the minor ones was loan repayments.

          The undergraduate payments would be deferred if I remained in law school, and the school told me that it would also wait to get its money back until after the army, willing to be stiffed if I became a stiff in a rice paddy. The law school, however, was not so kind and told me that once I left their institution, no matter what the reason, I would have to start paying back my debt. I was both pissed and amused. My memory is that I was to get paid $110 a month as a private, but $40 a month would have to go to the law school. As it turned out, I did not have to find out how I might fare on $70 a month. As I have related elsewhere on the blog, I eventually got a medical deferment and was not inducted. (See post of March 15, 2017, “Big Government Makes Killers” Search Results for “”Big Government”” – AJ’s Dad (ajsdad.blog))

          When I finished law school, though, I went into low-paying positions—first a civil liberties fellowship and then into the public defender’s office. Nevertheless, I had to start repaying the student loans. I owed $80 a month, which might not sound like much, but it was almost 20% of my monthly take-home during the fellowship and remained a heavy burden when I joined the Legal Aid Society.

          Sometimes the spouse and I discuss when it was that we first felt financially secure, and we both agree it was not until we had enough money to know we could make it to end of the month and pay the rent. We scrimped. One time, invited by some friends for dinner, we debated whether the free dinner was worth the four subway fares it would take to get there and back. Eventually, we attained what we considered financial independence, the result of a pay raise and the end of one of my loans. The college debt was less than the law school one, so we paid it off sooner. The removal of $40 from the recurring debit side of the ledger was a big event and a reason we did not have to worry about money every single moment. A few years later, the law school obligation was retired, and the disappearance of those monthly $40 payments almost made us feel we were middle class.

          When I no longer had student debt, I gave the topic little thought for a long time, even when I went into law school teaching. But as my academic career continued, I began to consider the financing of higher education more. The law school in which I taught was a private, tuition-dependent institution. As the costs of the school soared, I realized that most of the students could afford it only if they took out loans. I started asking students about their debt. The figures were astounding. Fifteen years ago, it went from $90,000 to over $200,000.

          I realized that I had little idea about their ability to service such loans because I knew little about the career paths of our typical graduates. Like many academics, I might hear about the outstanding successes but knew little about the average graduate.

          There was little data about our grads, but there were good studies of the legal profession as a whole. The initial salaries of law school graduates did not fall into a single bell-shaped curve as it did in other professions. Instead, starting pay was grouped into two bell-shaped curves that were far apart. The modal point for one group was $160,000 and the rest of the beginning attorneys were grouped around $60,000. The high-earning graduates were corporate attorneys going into large law firms; everyone else fell into the lower bracket. The corporate jobs were overwhelmingly staffed from the elite law schools, and my school certainly did not fall into that category. Nineteen out of twenty of our grads were headed to that lower range. Of course, they could expect a higher income as they became more experienced, but the sociologists of the profession also showed that few of those in the lower bell curve would ever jump into that higher group. Starting with lower pay, our grads would forever have incomes less than those other attorneys.

           I was in the teaching business for those who would not get the high-paying jobs. The corporate law firms were not going to have problems hiring smart, well-trained lawyers, but I was especially interested in a better criminal justice system, and I wanted a hand in preparing competent prosecutors and defenders where starting jobs were at best at the $60,000 point. So I compared the starting criminal justice salaries with what I earned in my first positions some thirty years before. To my surprise the money I was paid was, in inflation-adjusted dollars, more than the comparable attorneys were earning today. Starting salaries in many of the “do-good” and government legal jobs in constant dollars have been dropping. I had not found it easy to pay off my relatively modest debt. How were these graduates going to pay off so much more with less pay?

          I did not have the answer, but I did have some idea as to why present student debt was so large. The costs of higher education have increased at a much greater rate than inflation. For example, in the year I graduated from college, in-state tuition at my home state’s flagship university was around $350. My first two summers after high school I worked at minimum-wage jobs that paid me $50 a week. Living at home, I could have saved enough for the tuition, and working ten hours a week during the school year could have paid for the rest of college expenses. In today’s dollars, that $350 tuition would now be about $3,000, and a minimum-wage summer job could still cover tuition. However, today the in-state tuition at the University of Wisconsin is actually about $11,000, much higher than inflation would indicate. A summer job for ten weeks at even $15 an hour will cover only about half the tuition. And the out-of-state tuition, which more closely mirrors some private schools, was about $9,000 back in my day. Now that tuition is about $39,000, and no normal student jobs are going to pay that. Thus, increased student debt.

          There are now important debates about whether student debt should be forgiven. But along with those considerations, there should also be an examination of why the cost of college and graduate school has soared well beyond inflationary increases. Even if all the present student debt magically disappeared, as long as students have to pay the over-inflated costs of university systems, the student debt problem will remain.

Posted on by rjonakait

Courtship and Conscription

Five years earlier than our trip, our Moroccan guide was thirty-four years old and single when his brother suggested that it was time for the guide to get married. The brother had someone in mind. The guide was told that he could glimpse the woman at a particular time and location, and he went there several times, but she, in spite of the prediction, did not pass by. Finally, the brother brought him to the woman’s house. The guide and the woman, according to the guide, each asked a “few” questions of the other. Only after this meeting, did the guide tell his parents about the woman. The parents were surprised that he had met her without them knowing—apparently a breach of protocol. A short while later, the guide, his parents, and his sisters went to meet the woman and her family. After this meeting, the two got engaged and were married six months later.

This courtship seems strange from a western viewpoint, but the way the guide recounted it, it must not be unusual in Morocco. And as far as I could tell, the marriage has been successful. My only doubt about that is that the guide seemed a bit intimidated by his wife.

After four years of marriage, the couple had a son. The guide is very proud of the boy and said that he would like one more child.

The guide more than once told us that women have advanced much in Moroccan society. When he did so, I always thought it would be informative to get a Moroccan woman’s perspective on their situation.

Women are allowed the opportunity for an education; our guide’s wife has a college degree, having studied physics and architecture. The guide said that she would like to work, but it is hard to find an appropriate job. He said that the Moroccan unemployment rate is ten percent overall, and jobs for educated people using their training are often scarce.

Moroccan public education is free through college. Universities have a hierarchy with some harder to get into than others. University admission is determined by a graduation test from the equivalent of our high school. Our guide readily admitted that he had not done as well on that examination as others and did not get into the most selective school. Instead of studying medicine, he studied English.

Morocco has compulsory education from the ages of six through fifteen for both boys and girls, but it has not been completely successful. There is much absenteeism from the schools, especially in the countryside, and the country still has an illiteracy problem.

Morocco has recently reinstituted mandatory military service, and this produces some equality between men and women since both are conscripted. The guide did not say why the draft had been abandoned a generation ago, but it did not exist when he was of military age, and, as a result, he did not serve in the military. Conscription does not seem to have been reinstituted because Morocco feels an imminent foreign threat. Instead, the guide said that the major goal of the draft is to instill nationalism, but he did not elaborate on why that had become necessary.

Hearing this bit about Moroccan conscription, I thought about the United States draft. It ended nearly fifty years ago, and I wondered if American patriotism had waned or waxed since then; whether the country was more or less warlike; whether our nation was more or less safe; whether young people were better or worse trained for jobs. I wondered what the chances are that conscription would ever be reinstituted here. If so, how would our country be affected if both men and women were subject to a draft? I wondered if we might have mandatory, universal national service of which the military would be one option. There must be some good literature of such topics, but I don’t know about it. If you do, let me know, for these are subjects worth exploring.