Thoughts on Military-Civilian Transitions Continued…
In last week’s blog post, I proposed a thought experiment: What does it mean to separate difficulty from efficacy when designing training? It’s not a perfect dichotomy; by definition, adaptations occur when stress is sufficient enough to disrupt homeostasis. Training must be challenging, even if the magnitude of the challenge is not a reliable indicator of its ability to increase performance. The model is imperfect, but my goal was to consider a hypothetical approach in which steeling people for combat and building specific competencies arise from distinct strategies. I used physical training (PT) as an example, first with a brief description of the status quo as I remember, and then a description of a possible scenario. The post ended with a question: Was the scenario feasible? I believe the answer to this question is worth considering, at a minimum as a reflection on building a better military, and potentially for its implications on the current approach to transition assistance.
First, let’s examine the proposed scenario and its radical propositions like reduced PT frequency, predictable garrison schedules, and an emphasis on quality sleep. Many leaders I served with ridiculed such heresy, despite its alignment with training doctrine. The performance triad comes to mind. Their central argument was that changes to unit PT would promote weakness, end traditions, and defy convention. I am just as guilty as any in this regard. As a young officer, I probably shared some if not most of those concerns, and if I didn’t, it wasn’t the hill to die on. The irony, however, is that as long as “pain” and “gain” are synonymous, units are actually subverting their own physical readiness. In other words, if I were an adversary intent on sabotaging the military’s physical readiness, I would do the following:
foster a culture that endows bragging rights for sleep-deprivation,
emplace barriers to consistent and quality nutrition,
limit access to training equipment and education,
convince everyone that physical appearance is a proxy for coaching ability
ensure fast food and supplement shops were available on every post.
Sound familiar?
In fairness, there is an argument for the status quo, and I’ll attempt to steel-man it here: As long as the military fills its billets and service members achieve minimum standards, the force has served its purpose as a global deterrent. Iran probably doesn’t care about our average 2-mile time. The reality is that our military is a reflection of society and we need to set the bar somewhere to make sure we have enough people in uniform. Everything else is extra. When it’s time for war, we can get serious about ensuring units have the personnel, training, and equipment they need to be successful. That’s why we maintain a select group of specialized units to react while the rest of the force builds its fighting strength. Besides, the conventional military’s mission is not to produce athletes, it is to meet the minimum allowable standard to be ready for combat. Furthermore, we train leaders to pursue excellence by taking it upon themselves to aim higher. And finally, one of my personal favorites, we have to work with what America sends us.
There may be value and truth to both the imagined world where individual soldier performance is developed independently from their overall stress tolerance; and the status quo where performance and privation are pursued together. Though one major consequence tips the scales, in my mind, toward reform. Conflating what is hard with what is effective directly contributes to a culture in which admitting personal shortcomings is both a vulnerability and a professional liability. I believe the only way to ‘be all we can be’ is to embrace our shortcomings as opportunities to improve. Leaders should want to know their soft spots better than the proverbial enemy. Measuring the effectiveness of training by how sweaty, tired, smoked, cooked, destroyed, and crushed we are, ensures that we delude ourselves; we think we actually accomplished something greater than enduring shared hardship. While Important, toughness is only one half of the coin—the other is actual competence. We already have training mantras like “crawl-walk-run” and “slow is smooth, smooth is fast,” but that means nothing if training isn’t structured accordingly. Ultimately, a service member’s chances of growth and development should not depend on the likelihood that their leadership recognizes that privation in training is necessary, but not sufficient.
Leaving the military is a point of vulnerability for every veteran, made more difficult if one’s only experience away from home is the military. Even if income inequality weren’t disturbingly high, and the middle class weren’t hollowed out, veterans would still have to admit that they don’t know everything. We have to learn about job interviews, credentialing processes, how to utilize our benefits, what a typical job search entails, how we compare to our civilian peers, how to market ourselves, civilian health care, and most importantly, how to replace the gaping hole created when we take off the uniform and no longer have a clear purpose derived from our service.
Perhaps, if the military developed knowledge, skills, and abilities with one strategy and calluses for combat with another, it would be easier for an E4 to admit that he or she is unprepared for civilian life. We know what happens when veterans don’t admit vulnerability, don’t ask for help, don’t believe they can be better, and don’t feel like they belong anywhere.
Next week, we will continue the discussion with a different frame for veteran suicide.
