“Some folks are born made to wave the flag,
They’re red, white and blue.
And when the band plays ‘Hail to the Chief,’
They point the cannon at you, Lord.
It ain’t me, it ain’t me,
I ain’t no senator’s son, son.
It ain’t me, it ain’t me …”
When Creedence Clearwater Revival released “Fortunate Son” in 1969, the lyrics captured a growing frustration in America: the sense that the burden of war was not shared equally. The Vietnam-era draft was intended to be a universal obligation, but in practice, class distinctions often shaped who served and who did not.
I was just a few years away from draft eligibility when the Vietnam War ended. I remember wiping the sweat from my brow when I heard the news. I had even considered going to Canada to avoid a war that I believed was a terrible mistake. When the Pentagon Papers were leaked in 1971, they confirmed my suspicions. The documents revealed that successive U.S. administrations had secretly expanded the war, including bombing campaigns in Cambodia and Laos and coastal raids on North Vietnam, without fully informing the public or Congress. The gap between what Americans were told and what was actually happening overseas was profound.
During the draft era, a conscientious objector was someone who refused combat service based on deeply held moral, ethical, or religious beliefs against killing or participating in war. That path required formal declaration and scrutiny. Others, however, relied on deferments, legal avenues that were often more accessible to the well-connected and the wealthy.
Several prominent political figures received deferments during the Vietnam era:
Dick Cheney received five deferments, four for education and one “hardship” deferment in 1966 when his wife became pregnant with their first child. He later told reporters that he had “other priorities” in the 1960s.
George W. Bush joined the Texas Air National Guard in 1968 and served as a pilot. While he did serve, critics have alleged that he received preferential treatment in securing his position and questioned whether he fulfilled all service requirements toward the end of his tenure.
Mitt Romney received several student deferments followed by a 4-D ministerial deferment while serving as a Mormon missionary in France for 30 months. After returning, he drew a high draft lottery number (300) and was not drafted.
Bill Clinton avoided the draft through student deferments, including while studying as a Rhodes Scholar at Oxford, and briefly enrolled in an ROTC program before withdrawing. He later entered the draft lottery in 1969 but received a high number (311) and was never called.
Donald Trump received four student deferments and one medical deferment. In 1968, he was diagnosed with bone spurs in his heels. A 2018 report suggested the diagnosis may have been influenced by a podiatrist who had a professional relationship with Trump’s father. Trump has often cited his attendance at military school as evidence of training, though he did not serve in the armed forces.
None of Trump’s adult children served in the military during the wars in Iraq or Afghanistan. Senator and retired Navy captain Mark Kelly has publicly noted that no generation of the Trump family has served in the military. Trump’s father did not serve during World War II, and his grandfather, Friedrich Trump, permanently left Germany after authorities determined he had emigrated years earlier to avoid mandatory military service, barring him from regaining citizenship.
“The lesson of that era is not only about foreign policy miscalculations, but also about how class distinctions can shape who bears the cost of national decisions.”
– Civil Heresy
In contrast, Joe Biden’s son Beau joined the Delaware Army National Guard in 2003 as a judge advocate. In 2008, while serving as Delaware’s Attorney General, his unit was activated, and he deployed to Iraq for a year. He was later awarded the Bronze Star.
There were also notable exceptions among prominent families. John F. Kennedy served in World War II, as did his brother Joseph Kennedy Jr., who died in service. John McCain served in Vietnam and endured years as a prisoner of war. However, by the late 1960s, such examples were less common among the political and economic elite.
Many wealthy families relied on what might be called three primary “Tier One” methods to avoid combat service:
The Medical Loophole:
Access to private physicians who could diagnose chronic conditions, such as allergies, mild asthma, or orthopedic issues that might disqualify someone from service.
The National Guard Loophole:
Securing a position in the National Guard, which, during Vietnam, was widely perceived as less likely to result in deployment. These positions often required political connections due to long waiting lists.
The Graduate School Loophole:
Until 1967, men could remain deferred as long as they were enrolled in higher education. Wealthy families could afford to keep their sons in graduate, law, or medical school until they passed the draft eligibility age of 26.
Attendance at elite universities proved particularly effective. At Harvard University, a survey of the Class of 1970 found that only two men out of more than 1,200 served in Vietnam. At Yale University, military participation dropped sharply by 1970. Princeton University maintained its ROTC program despite protests, yet most students still relied on deferments.
Prominent business families followed similar patterns. Charles and David Koch focused on engineering degrees and building Koch Industries rather than serving in Vietnam. Members of President Gerald Ford’s family remained in civilian careers; one son qualified for a ministerial deferment as a theology student.
Sociologists sometimes refer to this strategy as “dodging up”, not evading the law outright, but leveraging education, professional placement, or medical documentation to remain ineligible. Wealthy families could invest in “human capital,” secure occupational deferments in essential industries, or obtain specialized medical evaluations that might not have been available to working-class draftees.
By 1969, public confidence in the draft had deteriorated significantly. Polls indicated that 69 percent of Americans believed that “the sons of the rich figured out how to avoid the draft.” In 1973, the United States ended the draft and transitioned to an All-Volunteer Force.
That change addressed one inequity but created another: what is now often called the “civilian-military gap.” Military service today is disproportionately drawn from working- and middle-class communities, while the children of political and economic elites rarely pursue service as a career.
The Vietnam War cost more than 58,000 American lives. The vast majority were young men from modest backgrounds. The lesson of that era is not only about foreign policy miscalculations, but also about how class distinctions can shape who bears the cost of national decisions.
“Yeah, some folks inherit star-spangled eyes,
They send you down to war.
And when you ask them, ‘How much should we give
The only answer is “more, more, more!”
Why It Matters
This isn’t nostalgia, it’s a pattern.
The Vietnam War exposed a truth that still hasn’t been resolved: when America goes to war, the burden is not shared equally. The system may have changed, from a draft to a volunteer force but the underlying imbalance remains.
What this piece does well is connect past to present without shouting. It shows that war isn’t just a geopolitical decision, it’s a class filter. The people making the decisions are rarely the ones facing the consequences.
And now, with renewed talk of conflict with Iran, the same question returns:
Who fights and who gets to choose not to?
Because history doesn’t repeat itself cleanly. It echoes through structures that were never fully dismantled.
Key Takeaways
- Vietnam exposed deep class inequality in military service
- Deferments disproportionately benefited the wealthy and well-connected
- Public trust eroded when Americans realized the system wasn’t fair
- The shift to an all-volunteer force solved one problem, but created a civilian-military divide
- Today, military service still disproportionately falls on working- and middle-class Americans
- Renewed war discussions (e.g., Iran) raise the same unresolved question: who pays the price?
Key questions to consider
Q1: Was the Vietnam War draft unfair?
Yes. While intended to be universal, deferments and loopholes allowed wealthier and well-connected individuals to avoid service disproportionately.
Q2: How did wealthy Americans avoid the Vietnam draft?
Through student deferments, medical exemptions, and National Guard placements—options more accessible to those with resources and connections.
Q3: Is military service still unequal in the U.S.?
Yes. Today’s all-volunteer force draws heavily from working- and middle-class communities, while elite participation remains low.
Q4: How does this relate to modern conflicts like Iran?
Potential conflicts raise the same structural issue: those making policy decisions are often insulated from the human cost of war.
Further Reading – Books.org
- A People’s History of the United States. A bottom-up account of American history that highlights how war, class, and power have consistently intersected. https://civilheresy.com/People’s History
- Born Fighting: How the Scots-Irish Shaped America. Explores the cultural roots of military service in working-class America and the enduring divide between elites and those who serve. https://civilheresy.com/born fighting
History keeps asking the same question: Who fights, and who gets to sit it out?
Civil Heresy gear is built for people who already know the answer. https://civilheresy.com/shop civil heresy
