What ever happened to national service? How a Bush policy pledge quietly disappeared

Washington Monthly, March, 2003 by Richard Just

ON JAN. 29, 2002, PRESIDENT BUSH stood before Congress and delivered to a shaken nation the first State of the Union speech after the September 11 terrorist attacks. In that speech, Bush acknowledged that through the brave example of America's response a new era of service to one's nation had begun. "In the sacrifice of soldiers, the fierce brotherhood of firefighters, and the bravery and generosity of ordinary citizens, we have glimpsed what a new culture of responsibility could look like," Bush said. "We want to be a nation that serves goals larger than self."

There were good reasons to offer these words. For all the praise Bush had received in the months since September 11, one criticism was beginning to sting: that the only thing he'd asked Americans to do for the war effort was go shopping. Indeed, Bush's nemesis, Sen. John McCain (R-Ariz.), had already introduced with Sen. Evan Bayh (D-Ind.) the Call to Service Act, a bill to expand five-fold the popular AmeriCorps program that is the centerpiece of civilian national service, and to authorize short-term military tours to boost enlistment in the armed services. In a political masterstroke, Bush surprised his critics, and many supporters, by proposing an even wider-ranging plan to support and expand national service, called USA Freedom Corps.

Freedom Corps was one of the most well received policies put forth in Bush's address. His plan sought to increase the ranks of groups such as AmeriCorps by 200,000 people. And, most dramatically, the president called on all Americans to serve. "My call tonight," Bush intoned, "is for every American to commit at least two years--4,000 hours over the rest of your lifetime--to the service of your neighbors and your nation." It was an effort, as Bush himself put it, "to sustain and extend the best that has emerged in America." The Freedom Corps office was created by executive order to act as a clearinghouse that would match the thousands of new volunteers Bush called for with the thousands of new volunteer opportunities he promised to create by expanding AmeriCorps, the Peace Corps, and Senior Corps.

Bush's plan drew praise from the president's supporters and critics alike. Not only was he touting an idea that had renewed significance to all Americans; national service also promised to be the rare issue that would transcend partisan political squabbling. Indeed, on the nationwide tour he conducted following his State of the Union address, Bush promised as much, pledging in a speech delivered in Winston-Salem, N.C., "I look forward to working with Senator McCain and Senator Bayh of Indiana to get this legislation through the Congress."

Yet one year later, with Osama bin Laden still very much at large and war with Iraq looming, Bush's vision for national service is not much closer to realization than it was at the moment he proposed it. AmeriCorps went unauthorized for a fifth straight year. Bush's national service bill never even made it to the floor of Congress. And the effort to "sustain and extend" the spirit of national purpose and unity has largely fallen by the wayside. Bush himself implicitly admitted as much. Instead of the soaring patriotic rhetoric that accompanied its introduction in last year's speech, Freedom Corps received no more than a fleeting mention in this year's address. All of which raises a puzzling question: How is it that an issue championed by a popular wartime president, favored by the vast majority of Americans, and supported by both parties has floundered so badly?

Selling Service

The popular consensus on the merit of rational service that greeted Bush's speech didn't always exist. In its current incarnation, the idea of dramatically bolstering or even requiring civilian and military service for America's youth originated with a group of centrist Democrats in the 1980s loosely centered around the Democratic Leadership Council.

Initiatives-backed by the rational service movement, such as a 1989 attempt by Sen. Sam Nunn (D-Ga.) and Rep. Dave McCurdy (D-Okla.) to tie federal financial aid for college students to service requirements, initially fell flat, drawing the ire of both the left and the right. But in 1992, candidate Bill Clinton chose to make civilian service a centerpiece of his presidential campaign. Not only was the idea well received, Clinton found that it was his biggest applause line on the stump. Shortly after assuming office, Clinton introduced a civilian service bill like the one he'd campaigned on. However, it quickly ran into a buzz saw of resistance from the increasingly powerful House Republicans, who derided it as an example of costly, unnecessary government bureaucracy.

So Clinton had to settle for a modest and affordable iteration of civilian service that became the AmeriCorps program. The program was designed to place members, most of them college age, with local and rational non-profits such as Habitat for Humanity, the American Red Cross, and the Boys and Girls Club of America. Though its initial prospects looked dim, AmeriCorps proved a great success. Since 1994 more than 200,000 members have served by tutoring school children, building low-income housing, and helping to repair communities in the aftermath of natural disaster. By the time Clinton left office, AmeriCorps numbered 50,000 annually and had become a favorite of state governors, who loved the program because it provided free workers in badly needed areas. AmeriCorps even won over many conservatives, including the governor of Texas at the time, George W. Bush, who was one of 49 of the 50 governors in 2000 who sent a letter to Congress asking that the program be maintained. Among its other converts was McCain, who had originally voted against AmeriCorps but came to embrace the value of national service and push it energetically on the campaign trail (see "Putting the National in National Service," by Sen. John McCain, The Washington Monthly, October 2001).