When attending school in the United States, you are taught that free speech is the cornerstone of democracy. And you believe it—until you don’t. I grew up in Illinois, with the Vietnam war as the turbulent backdrop for most of my teenage life. The US got involved in 1965, despite domestic protests and opposition that only increased as the war dragged on. Political rhetoric ran at a fever pitch, dividing families and communities.
On May 4, 1970, one singular event changed my life—and the lives of many other young Americans—completely. Four students died, and nine others were wounded, when the Ohio National Guard opened fire at Kent State University. The students, who were unarmed, were peacefully protesting the expansion of the war. The event became known as the “Kent State Massacre.”
On that day, I was halfway through my university education at Western Illinois University, and I decided I would leave my country of origin. Two years later, diploma in my fist, I left the United States and joined a larger movement. I was a war resister.
Crossing the Canadian border was easy for me. Friends drove me to Detroit, where I boarded a train to Toronto, with my meagre belongings in green garbage bags and a leather mailman’s bag beyond its lifespan. After I told the customs agent I’d be staying a few months and presented a bank book showing a $500 balance, I was waved through. I then travelled via train and fishing boat to Haida Gwaii, where my brother had settled after his own crossing into Canada.
For a young man escaping the draft, or avoiding a return to active duty, entering Canada was much more nerve-wracking. War resisters left their families, homes, and communities. At the border, most claimed they were planning to stay only a few days, even though they fully intended to stay indefinitely. Although they faced condemnation from every direction, and knew they risked arrest if they ever went home, they had the courage to come to Canada.
And they came by the thousands: the estimated number of war resisters entering Canada during the Vietnam years varies between 30,000 and 100,000. The estimated overall number of US citizens immigrating to Canada in those years is even higher, ranging between 250,000 and 400,000.
While writing this piece, I reached out to others with personal connections to the war. Here are some of their stories.
PHOTOS COURTESY OF JOLINE MARTIN & JANE WILDE
The friendly hosts
There was an extensive underground network of Canadian allies; handbooks produced by organizations like Students for a Democratic Society helped war resisters find safe havens in Canadian homes. If you listened carefully, you could hear doors open across Canada for these young men.
Cheryl’s father brought a series of people home. “It was exciting to be a part of an underground movement and mysterious at the same time,” she says. For a few weeks or months, the resisters were “part of the family, eating meals, playing cards, and listening to music” while the network arranged their Canadian driver’s licenses and SIN cards. Then someone would arrive at Cheryl’s home, present each man with his new legal documentation, a suit, and a watch, and he would disappear into the threads of Canadian society.
If the neighbours asked questions, Cheryl would tell them the men were her cousins. She smiles, “I had a lot of ‘cousins.’”
The customs agent
Dave worked as a Canadian customs agent on the Manitoba-Minnesota border. His daughter, Jeri-Lynn, remembers him coming home from work and sharing stories about the young men crossing the border, “scared shitless.” He felt compassion for them and would redirect the conversation to prevent them from revealing their draft status. Then he would say, “Welcome to Canada.”
Dave wasn’t breaking any rules. An Immigration official from Ottawa had instructed Dave and his fellow agents, “[If you encounter] any man between the ages of 17 and 30 entering Canada for any reason, let him in. Do not talk about politics or draft status. Even if you think they are criminals, just let them in.”
The vocal opponent
Paul spent three years actively opposing the Vietnam War. On Christmas morning in 1970, the FBI went to his mother’s door, looking for him, perhaps because he and his two brothers had refused to attend their draft physicals. Paul stayed underground until the summer of 1971, when he used a false ID to cross the border at Sumas, British Columbia with his girlfriend. They told the customs agent they were staying for a week.
Once in Canada, Paul says, “I got a post office box and applied for a social insurance number using my real name, birthdate, and place of birth.” After his card arrived in the mail, Paul applied for and received SIN cards for his two brothers, one older and one younger. He stayed in Langley until the fall of 1971, when his brothers, Jerome and Philip, arrived with friends from the US, and they all moved to Sointula, BC, where, Paul recalls, “We quickly became enamoured with the community and its history of communalism.”
Paul and Jerome’s first job was tree planting for the BC Forest Service. “Half the crew were displaced war resisters,” he says.
Paul’s family suffered a significant loss when Jerome returned to the US to visit their widowed mother. The police arrested him for draft evasion, and, while he was waiting for his hearing, he died in a car accident. Paul’s mother told him not to come to Jerome’s funeral: she did not want to risk losing another son to the Vietnam War.
The outcome
The war continued until April 30, 1975. Historians estimate two million civilians, 1,100,000 Vietnamese fighters, and 200,000 to 250,000 US soldiers were killed. In 1974, President Gerald Ford issued a proclamation pardoning deserters if they served two years of community service, and, the day after he was inaugurated in 1977, Jimmy Carter issued a blanket pardon for Vietnam draft evaders. But few returned.
Canada benefited from the exodus of these “draft dodgers” and deserters, most of whom prefer to be called conscientious objectors or war resisters. They are ordinary folk; their immigration history is invisible. They live in small towns and big cities, blending into jobs and volunteer roles in our communities. They are your neighbours, store clerks, teachers, lawyers, foster parents, crossing guards, clergy members, and even mayors. They are grandparents of today’s school-age children.
The challenges war resisters faced in the US and Canada are as varied as their backgrounds. Yet they have two things in common: the courage and conviction to resist war—and a deep gratitude towards the compassionate people who helped them establish a new life in Canada. I have never regretted my decision; Canada is my home.
Under Prime Minister Pierre Elliott Trudeau, Canada didn’t question potential “draft dodgers” at the border. (Trudeau used this term, considered offensive in 2024, in a speech on American television in March 1969).
According to the Canadian Encyclopedia, 500 Canadian companies (an estimated 150,000+ Canadian jobs) made $2.5 billion dollars manufacturing war materials for the US to use overseas, and many more profited from the sale of other items needed to keep the war going. Trudeau claimed he was “under tremendous pressure” to keep the jobs. But because Canada’s Immigration Act had no policy on war resisters, they were allowed to enter the country, despite American pressure.
FEATURED PHOTO BY WIKIMEDIA COMMONS, PUBLIC DOMAIN – PROTESTING THE VIETNAM WAR BY FRANK WOLFE, OCTOBER 21, 1967