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Since the Viet Nam War is unlike any in the nation's history, perhaps no precedent should be sought in history. Nearly everyone, even those few who still favor pursuing the war, now agrees that the U.S. should never have become involved in the way it did. Why punish those, ask the proponents of amnesty, who saw the light first? Many Americans have been against the war, but because they were ineligible through age, sex or infirmity, were not forced to back up their beliefs with their lives and careers. Why persecute those who, because they were young and eligible, did put their lives behind their convictions? Those now in exile or in jail, add the supporters of amnesty, include some of the most intelligent, the best educated and the most passionately concerned men of their generation. Most of them are a gain for their homes of exile, particularly Canada, where the majority live, and equally clearly, they are a great loss to the U.S. Why should the country so willingly, even perversely, suffer such a drain on its talent and spirit?
Beyond that, there is a practical argument in favor of amnesty. Many deserters, perhaps a majority, are already being quietly discharged, mostly because many military commands are unwilling to go through complicated prosecution procedures. The most celebrated recent example was the case of eight sailors who deserted last October from the carrier Constellation as it made ready to depart for Indochina, and took refuge in a San Diego church. All received a general discharge from the Navy under honorable conditions, which carries no penalty and only slight stigma. Is it fair to let some go and not others, or to create a situation in which it is wiser to desert than to resist the draft? The FBI, after all, boasts of its record in catching resisters. Uneven justice is no justice. Another highly persuasive argument for amnesty: no other action could be as effective in persuading the young that once again they can trust the humanity of their Government. In this sense, amnesty would serve its traditional function: healing angry wounds.
The case against complete amnesty is more compelling, however. Perhaps 70,000 men evaded the war—though no one has anything like an accurate figure. What about the 3,000,000 others who fought in it, 55,000 of whom died? In effect, say its opponents, amnesty would tell the man who fought or was wounded—or the survivors of the man who died—that he should have had better sense and sat out the war in Stockholm or Toronto. This is the emotional crux of the problem: Would it be fair to those who fought to forgive those who refused?
More practically, how could the U.S. ever field an army of draftees again if it established the precedent that draft evasion will be forgiven? An act of compassion and mercy now, however well-intentioned, might cost the country its freedom at some time in the future. And while amnesty might reconcile one group, say the opponents, it would embitter many Americans. Healing some wounds, it would exacerbate others, they contend. Senator Taft can attest to the bitterness of those who oppose amnesty. He asked one protester what should be done about draft evaders if his plan is rejected. The answer: "Shoot them."