My mother has always said it wasn’t a coincidence that I was born on Veterans Day: November 11, 1985. I think it was. We agree to disagree on that. Nevertheless, ever since I left the Army in 2009, Veterans Day has been about much more than my birthday — to put it mildly.
Since leaving the military, I’ve done different things on Veterans Day. I’ve marched in parades as an anti-war veteran. I’ve visited war memorials and paid solemn respect to the names inscribed on the walls. I’ve volunteered my time and effort towards causes greater than myself. I never thought of these activities as “celebrating” the day; rather, they were always far more important activities for me than blowing out birthday candles.
Veterans Day is a time to appreciate and thank military veterans. But it should also be a time to think long and hard about what service to this country means for all of us. We should use the example of veterans not necessarily to join the military, but to commit to serving in different ways.
For many vets, the call to serve didn’t end when we took off the uniform. For starters, we all swore an oath to defend this country. The duty of protecting our unique democracy should not, and does not, end once we take off the uniform. Part of that duty entails restoring both faith and participation in our democracy.
An election marred by efforts to polarize voters and suppress turnout has dealt our democracy yet another blow, and with so much demagoguery and so many assaults on our basic decency, humanity, and most cherished traditions of constitutional rights and direct representation, it’s no wonder there’s so much apathy and cynicism.
When I think of this pernicious political apathy, a distinct memory comes to mind: that of election day in Iraq, 2006. These were the first nationwide-elections since the toppling of the government in 2003. The security situation was precarious, and my unit protected Iraqis going to and from the polls in a rural area southwest of Baghdad. I can still remember the looks of pride and happiness on their faces as they passed by our HMMWVs (humvees) and showed us the blue-ink on their fingers. We took mortar fire that day, as did other units, but the elections were held, and people voted. They risked their lives to vote, like so many others before, and since. When I compare that to the voter-participation rates in the United States, it is difficult to swallow.
It is easy to tear down. It is difficult to build. Rather than reject our imperfect system of government, we should work within our existing institutions for impactful and long-lasting change.
To that end, I’ve been honored and proud to have been a part of numerous coalitions involved in this kind of work, helping to shape our culture, our policy and our laws. I’ve worked to get legislation passed, both in Colorado and nationally. I’ve worked to secure in-state tuition for refugees; college-level credit for certain types of military service; additional Special Immigrant Visas for our wartime allies in Iraq and Afghanistan; and legislation aimed at fixing military naturalization and bringing our deported veterans home.
This work constitutes the messy, necessary work of democracy. This work is important to me as I make sense of and process my military service, but it is also important to me because I recognize what a wonderful, yet fragile (and certainly not self-sustaining) phenomenon democracy is.