GIs: not your average joes; what the military can teach us about race, class, and citizenship.

• Author: Waldman, Amy

Like much of southeast Washington, D.C., 8th Street has seen better days. But at the corner of I Street sits one local landmark unscarred by age, crime, poverty, or neglect--a symbol, you might say, of tradition untouched by progress: the U.S. Marine Corps barracks.

Amid urban chaos, it is an oasis of order. A guard mans the gate; inside, crisply uniformed men and women move with purpose. The lush, manicured parade, maintained by a horticulturist and a staff of 20, spreads to the foot of the commandant's residence. From the band room drift sounds of the United States Marine Band--"The President's Own"--rehearsing a haunting classical refrain.

But not only the physical contrast to the surrounding streets is stark: Those who live within this haven's walls are a breed apart as well. The young enlisted Marines I meet, none older than 24, have poise and self-possession well beyond their years. They carry themselves with pride and speak in modulated tones, their words laced heavily with "ma'ams." Their answers are thoughtful. They have come, by and large, from the South, and from the working class, the children of seamstresses and social workers, farmers and factory workers. But from the first day of boot camp they abandon their inherited identities to be reborn into the military class.

They signed up for many reasons--patriotism, opportunity, challenge, to find their mettle. Corporal Gabriel Ford, 21, enlisted three years ago after growing up on a West Virginia farm and deciding college wasn't for him. His parents divorced early, and he wanted to make something of himself before making a commitment like marriage. The Marines promised to make the most of him. "They break you down to ground zero," he says, "and then build you up. You realize you can be a leader, that you have all these qualities that you never knew you had"

For others, the lure is practical. Corporal Adrian Santiago, 21, was born in Mexico and raised in Chicago, where a persuasive Marine recruiter snagged him on the cusp of high school and adulthood. The recruiter convinced him that the Corps offered what he wanted from life: the chance to travel; to grow up; to afford more education. Such blandishments may seem to have cultish echoes, but they all happen to be true. Indeed, they are time-honored reasons for military service. Chief Warrant Officer Joe Boyer says he signed up 20 years ago because everyone from his Illinois small town high school was "going to the farm or going to work at Caterpillar to make bulldozers." Neither option appealed to him; slaying dragons and seeing the world did.

Yet Boyer says civilians have told him he must have gone into the military because he was too stupid to do anything else. This white male Midwesterner looks at me and says, "I am a stereotyped minority." He's right. Among the well-educated and well-off, the perception persists that the military is the blue-collar option of last resort.

Twenty-five years ago, that notion had some merit. Once the educated began to evade the draft, and then were let off the hook entirely by the draft's end, the military became a place for people with few options. Drunkenness, drug use, desertion, illiteracy, and racial tension were rife. Forty percent of Army recruits were high school dropouts.

But beginning in the early 1980s, the armed forces began raising standards and requiring, if not a high school diploma, at least a GED (and only a tiny percentage of recruits have a GED instead of a diploma). Today, the caliber of recruits is the highest in history--more than 90 percent of enlisted men are high school graduates--and the services regularly turn away those who don't meet their standards. And because they have volunteered, recruits are truly committed.

If the raw material is impressive, so is the finished product. The military remains one of the few institutions in American life concerned with turning out good citizens who seek leadership, practice discipline, and believe in public service; and it has successfully tackled problems--most notably race and affirmative action--that continue to bedevil society at large. The military certainly isn't flawless, but it does have a lot to teach us. It's hard to learn at a distance, though, and the distance between the military and civilian populations has arguably never been greater.

All They Can Be

In 1989, Tenn Chowfren immigrated here from Jamaica. He had 19 years of life experience, a high school degree, and "no skills" So his parents did what desperate parents have done for generations: They encouraged him to enlist. In no time, he found himself in Army basic training. Soon, he not only had plenty of skills, but also what he calls "mental toughness," girded by a five-month deployment in Persian Gulf heat. He quickly ascended the ranks, then decided to go to college and become an officer. Today, he is an electrical engineering student at Howard University, as well as its Reserve Officers' Training Corps (ROTC) battalion commander. If he stays in the military, he will rise far. If he does not, he now has the skills and leadership experience "corporate America is looking for."

The military has always been an important force in assimilating and equipping immigrants like Chowfren for success. More remarkable, perhaps, is what it has done for a group of native-born citizens: African Americans. No group has benefited more from the upward mobility the military offers, because no institution in America has offered blacks more opportunity.

That's the thesis of All That We Can Be: Black Leadership and Racial Integration the Army Way, a new book by sociologists Charles Moskos and John Sibley Butler. Moskos and Butler trace the military's, and in particular the Army's, success not just in recruiting blacks, but in promoting them to positions of authority. Colin Powell is the most notable, but far from the only, symbol of that success. Seven percent of army generals are black; 11 percent of all officers; and 30 percent of enlisted men. The Army has made affirmative action work without quotas, without lowering standards, and without a white backlash.

Moskos and Butler identify several principles the army has relied on and civilian society could learn from. The first is to promote on merit--but only after enlarging the pool of qualified blacks from which to select. The army takes proactive steps to ensure that pool is big enough: recruiting heavily on historically black campuses, for example, and establishing education programs to bring the skills of potential recruits and officers up to par. Standards stay inflexibly high, which means everyone promoted has earned it--and everyone working under them knows it.

Moskos and Butler also stress that the army worries more about creating black opportunity than eliminating white racism. In truth, though, the nature of the military means that anything that gets in the way of mission accomplishment is unacceptable. Racism gets in the way. "From day one of boot camp," Marine Corporal Ford, who is white, tells me, "everyone is green" The military forces integration; in doing so, it illuminates why that ideal is still worth fighting for. Lance Corporal Tashawna Craig, a 19-year-old African American from Houston who followed her five uncles into the Marines, says growing up in the south made her wary when she saw the races freely mixing at boot camp. "I never thought I could work with [whites]," she says. She learned she could. "When I go home to the South I can feel the tension," she says. "I've never felt racial tension here."

Military race relations aren't perfect, of course. And if the peacetime benefits are high for blacks, so are the wartime costs: Blacks will be deployed in disproportionate numbers to their presence in the population (although a disproportionate number of blacks deployed are not sent into combat). That's why some black civil rights leaders look askance at military service: Upward mobility shouldn't require the willingness to strap on a uniform. That...