For some young people, the stakes are already gone. A dangerous emptiness exists where fear of repercussions should be. They operate in a world where the cost of crime feels… negligible.
Experienced criminals actively seek them out, mirroring a dark historical pattern. These older figures exploit youthful vulnerability, using them to carry out increasingly dangerous tasks – silencing rivals, executing hits, becoming expendable tools in a ruthless game.
Even when caught, the penalties are shockingly lenient. A brief stint in a youth facility, often characterized by a soft approach, and then a return to the streets, sometimes even celebrated as a hardened figure. The concept of genuine consequences has become tragically diluted.
That is, until the ultimate consequence is paid. Until a life is lost.
“These kids need boundaries, they need direction,” a friend observed recently, “and maybe, just maybe, a system like three strikes and a path to service – two years in the military.” He was articulating a long-forgotten principle: accountability.
It’s a concept with a precedent. A family member, caught stealing cars years ago, was presented with a stark choice: juvenile detention or military service. He chose the latter, finding purpose and a successful career fighting in Korea, a path forged from a moment of transgression.
Canada hasn’t seen widespread conscription since the final years of the Second World War, when the need for soldiers became desperate. The United States’ experience with the draft is more recent, ending with the divisive Vietnam War in 1973.
Now, the U.S. is considering a change – automatic registration for the draft beginning this December. The Selective Service System, responsible for maintaining the database of eligible men, proposed the rule change earlier this year.
Currently, most men between 18 and 25 are required to register, and failure to do so carries significant penalties: hefty fines, imprisonment, and denial of government benefits like jobs and student loans. While officials state a draft isn’t currently planned, the situation remains fluid.
The Vietnam-era draft deeply fractured American society. Working-class families readily answered the call to duty, or were compelled to serve, while the affluent and well-connected often found ways to avoid service – through college deferments, questionable medical exemptions, and the influence of wealth.
By 1969, a growing sense of injustice fueled protests and demands for fairness. The introduction of the draft lottery was an attempt to address this, assigning a random number to each day of the year, with lower numbers facing a higher likelihood of being called to serve.
A grim truth emerged: when the sons of the wealthy and powerful began to face the same risks as everyone else, the appetite for war diminished rapidly. When those with privilege are forced to share the burden, conflicts tend to resolve themselves with surprising speed.
Imagine if Canada’s young offenders were compelled to serve. It would be a consequence, undeniably. They might even discover skills, discipline, and a sense of purpose, diverting them from a path leading to prison or an early grave.
It would undoubtedly challenge conventional thinking. But perhaps, just perhaps, it’s a conversation worth having.
