I Fight for Your Right to Vote. But I Won’t Do It Myself.
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Version 0 of 1. Tonight, like millions of Americans, I will be glued to my television, watching the third and last presidential debate. But unlike them, and millions of others, whatever I hear tonight, I won’t be taking it with me into the ballot booth. I am a major in the United States Army, and I believe it is my professional duty — and that of my fellow officers, in all branches — not to vote. To be clear, I strongly believe that officers, like all citizens, should have the right to vote. But because military officers have a special responsibility to prevent politics from dividing our troops and separating us from society, it is all the more important for us to choose not to exercise that right (this is my belief, of course, and not necessarily that of the Department of Defense or the American government). Especially when our elected officials routinely make fateful decisions about where and how we are deployed, it is vital that we maintain the constitutional division between the civilians in charge and the men and women who execute their orders. Anything that erodes that division is a threat, however small, to our democracy. The military’s guidelines on voting are fuzzy. Officers, we’re instructed, are encouraged to “carry out the obligations of citizenship,” yet we are also strongly cautioned not to “engage in partisan political activity.” This ambiguity recognizes that we have two identities: I am a citizen. But I have also sworn an oath as a commissioned military officer. One came by birth and coincidence, the other by belief and commitment. In certain circumstances, my identity as a military officer should take precedence. Voting is one of them. Friends and family often tell me I’m not fulfilling my “patriotic duty,” that I’m “robbing the electorate of an educated voter.” They ask why I can’t just quietly walk into a voting booth, pull the lever, and silently slip back out. What’s the harm in that? The trouble is I will have exercised a personal, partisan choice, committing myself to a candidate, party and set of beliefs and policies. I would like to believe that I can separate my political and professional views, but I worry that, years from now, my decision could undermine my military judgment. This is principled abstention, a silent form of speech as serious to me as the actions of those athletes who choose not to stand for the national anthem. By not voting, I am saying as loudly as I can, as quietly as I am able, that I will never make my political preference an obstacle to the best military decisions for the defense of our nation. “I am in the pay of the United States government,” Gen. George S. Patton once put it. “If I vote against the administration, I am voting against my commander in chief. If I vote for the administration in office I am being bought.” And it’s not just about me, or officers individually. Militaries require rigid cohesion to function amid terrifyingly violent circumstances, and they require society’s trust to fill and fund critical needs. But people are inherently prone to social tribalism and political factionalism, and so the military has adopted a deliberate nonpartisan stance to support soldier solidarity and maintain the public’s trust. Unfortunately, an unacceptable number of military officers who vote in this election will publicly express their political preferences and pressure others to follow. One 2010 study found that over a quarter of military officers reported that another officer tried to influence their vote; my experience suggests this figure would be even higher today — like everyone else, officers are inundated and politicized by 24-hour news and social media. To vote, and then rely upon a culture of secrecy to prevail, is not a successful strategy in the Facebook age. Political abstention is the simple solution: With no vote, there’s no need to convey partisan ideas. There’s no quicker way to extinguish inflammatory political small talk than to say, “I’m a military officer; I don’t vote.” By not voting, I am countering the alarming number of retired officers who damage the traditional political neutrality of the Profession of Arms by vociferously endorsing presidential candidates and being used as campaign props. I am recording my vote of confidence in America — after all, trust must flow two ways, and purposeful restraint affirms the faith I place in my fellow citizens with the selection of our commander in chief. By not voting, I am walking in the boot prints of our greatest officers: George C. Marshall, Dwight D. Eisenhower and Patton, to name a few who didn’t vote while in uniform, and those of the modern era that tread the same path — David H. Petraeus, Martin Dempsey and, by all appearances, Mark A. Milley, the current Army chief of staff. Lt. Gen. Ulysses S. Grant is an especially instructive case, because he faced the grimmest temptation to tamper with the election of 1864 during the Civil War. And yet, crucially, Grant chose not to vote. These giants lived in different times, but they all agreed: Military officers shouldn’t vote in national elections. As a profession, we’d do well to follow their lead. I know I will. |