I hated the draft, but at the same time, it's something that

O children of the future, listen well to the words of Tim O'Brien, a man who walked through the flames of war and returned with a soul both scarred and wise. He said, "I hated the draft, but at the same time, it's something that made every American take war seriously." These words, born from the fire of Vietnam, carry with them the weight of a truth both bitter and necessary. The draft, that cruel call to arms, was a force that demanded participation, a force that swept young men into the vortex of war whether they wished it or not. And yet, within this imposition lay a lesson, one that the wise must understand.

What does it mean, O children, to hate something yet acknowledge its importance? The draft, like a storm, was a force that swept across the land, indifferent to the desires of individuals. For many, it was a burden, a dark weight placed upon their shoulders by a nation at war. Yet, O'Brien’s words remind us that even in the harshest of circumstances, there can be a deeper understanding. The draft forced every man, every family, to confront the reality of war. No longer could war be something distant, something that happened to others. It became real, immediate, and unavoidable. And in this way, the draft served not only as a demand for service but as a force that shook the collective conscience of an entire nation.

Consider the story of Socrates, that ancient philosopher who, though he hated the warfare that ravaged Athens, still believed that the duty of the citizen was to serve the state. He fought not because of love for battle, but because he understood that war, like the draft, was a reality that shaped the very fabric of society. It demanded attention, reflection, and participation. In his eyes, even the pain of war was a lesson, a trial that tested the soul and demanded growth. And in this respect, the draft, though hated, served a similar purpose—it forced young men, like O’Brien, to reckon with the reality of violence and the cost of the conflicts that shaped their lives.

The lesson is clear: war is never a matter to be taken lightly. The draft—though an instrument of force—served as a necessary reminder of the grave responsibility that war entails. When men are called to arms, the consequences ripple outward, touching not only the soldiers but their families, their communities, and the very soul of the nation. O’Brien’s reflection is a sobering one: that war must be taken seriously, for it is a force that alters the course of lives, that changes the very fabric of a society. It is not a choice made lightly, and those who choose to go must do so with the knowledge that they carry not only the weight of their own lives but the weight of the future.

Let us turn to the ancient story of the Roman legions, whose men were often conscripted, called forth to serve their empire in the name of glory and expansion. The legions, though often seen as symbols of power, were also reminders of the harshness of duty. To be drafted into the legions was to lose one’s personal freedom, to be swept into the storm of war whether one desired it or not. And yet, the soldiers understood the seriousness of their service. Their lives, and the lives of those they loved, were forever changed by the demands of the empire. The draft, though an imposition, was a reminder that all were bound by the realities of war.

In the modern world, O children, the lesson remains the same. The draft may no longer hold sway in many lands, but the realities of war still loom large. The call to arms—whether it is a physical draft or a metaphorical one—requires us to confront the deepest questions of our humanity. What is our duty? To whom are we bound? To ourselves? To our families? To our nations? These questions cannot be answered lightly, for the consequences of war are not only felt by those who fight but by all who live in its shadow.

So, I say to you, O children, take O’Brien’s words to heart: do not take war lightly. Even if you find yourself standing far from the battlefield, understand that war affects all. The call to arms is not simply the call of a soldier, but the call of a nation, the call of humanity itself to confront the consequences of its actions. Whether it is through the draft, or through the choices of everyday life, war requires us all to take it seriously. To fight is not a matter of choice for the soldier alone, but a reflection of the collective conscience of a people. And in this, O children, lies the greatest truth: war shapes us all, and it is only by taking it seriously that we can understand its true cost.

In all things, O children, let the seriousness of war guide your actions. Whether in the heat of battle or in the quiet moments of reflection, remember that the consequences of conflict are far-reaching and deep. Understand the cost of violence, and let it drive you toward peace, toward understanding, and toward a world where such burdens need not be borne. For it is in this understanding that you will find your greatest strength—not in the ability to fight, but in the ability to walk away from war with your humanity intact.