Veteran’s Day Address

Today, on Veterans Day, we honor those who served, but let’s take a moment to really think about what that service means—what it’s built on, and why so many young people feel like the military is their only path forward.

Growing up, we all saw it. I remember back in sixth grade, we’d be talking on the school bus about military snipers, about that soldier who supposedly took a guy out from two miles away. We were kids, thinking, ‘That’s badass, that’s what a hero looks like.’ But what does that really mean? Is that what it means to be a hero—to take someone’s life, to drop bombs on communities we’ve never met? Think about it. The new Call of Duty game just came out. It’s the best-selling game series of all time, and that’s no accident. It’s backed by the Department of Defense, openly funded as a recruitment tool. I grew up playing it, like so many others—chatting with friends about favorite guns and wars. But there’s a reason these games are everywhere, and it isn’t just entertainment. It’s all part of a system meant to make military life feel normal, even appealing.

Then there are the jets flying over football games, with cheers from the crowd as we feel that rush of pride. But those same jets are flying missions overseas, dropping bombs on Gaza right now. They aren’t just part of a spectacle for us—they’re part of a war machine that devastates real people, families, communities, every day. And it’s our government funding that destruction. We’re not just watching from the sidelines; we’re implicated, whether we realize it or not.

The message is everywhere: enlist, serve, be proud. But here’s the reality—our young people aren’t just choosing the military out of patriotism. Many are pushed into it because they don’t see other options. For some, it’s a way to escape poverty, to build a future when other doors feel closed. It’s no coincidence that enlisted recruitment is highest in communities with the least opportunity.

Imagine a small town with maybe 6,000 people. The big news is when a new Dollar General goes up, right down the street from the Family Dollar that went up last year. That’s ‘economic development’ where you’re from. There’s no factory, no hospital, no major employers, but there’s always a recruiting office—Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines, maybe even Border Patrol. That’s where the opportunities are for far too many.

And it’s no accident. The military is this country’s biggest jobs program, especially in towns like these, where the options are thin and the future feels even thinner. You’re not signing up just out of patriotism; you’re signing up because no one showed you another way out. And from an early age, this idea of ‘service’ is drilled into you, not as one option among many, but as a path you’re expected to take. When the only job opportunities are in uniform, when every career fair is filled with recruiters, when the most stable paycheck is tied to war, what message does that send?

But here’s the thing: those jets flying over games, those flags waving—they don’t represent me, and they don’t represent the values I want for my country. We can honor the people who served without glorifying the system that put them there, a system that chews up working-class young people from forgotten places. We’re not just watching from the sidelines; we’re part of a culture that makes this feel normal, that makes war seem inevitable, even honorable. But it doesn’t have to be that way.

A lot of veterans come home and turn to nature for peace. They find themselves drawn to our national parks, looking for something real, something life-giving after years of being part of something destructive. They reflect on the lives affected, maybe the lives taken, and there’s healing in those quiet places, in the trees, the rivers, the land. These parks remind us that we can build something beautiful, something lasting.

So, as we honor our veterans today, let’s ask ourselves why we have so many. Why is service often the only way forward in towns that this country has left behind? And what can we do to make sure the next generation has other doors open—doors to opportunity, doors to a future that doesn’t involve a uniform and a gun?

If we’re truly ‘we the people,’ then it’s on us to reject the idea that this war machine reflects our values. Let’s build a country where service means building communities, not tearing them apart. Where being a hero isn’t about the longest sniper shot but about creating a future where kids in small towns don’t feel like the military is their only chance to get somewhere. That’s a country I want to believe in, one that respects its veterans and also questions the need for their service. And deep down, I think a lot of us want the same thing.

-Erik Houdini erikhoudini.com