Through the website, The Cove, the Australian Army has thrown down a challenge: in 100 words or less outline its ‘strategic script’ for 2030.
It’s not a bad idea. Articulating what the Army should look like in 2030 is an important step to getting there.
Unfortunately, however, any idea that is not rooted in reality will be a mere pipe-dream. And that is what many of the ideas put forward are.
One argues that companies of 100 soldiers should be able to start and maintain indefinite insurgencies with little external support, while battalions of 600 should be capable of ending regional ones. Who knew 100 words would whimsically win the wars in Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan with just a handful of soldiers?
Another suggests that physiotherapists, psychologists, counsellors, dieticians and cultural leaders be embedded to provide ‘resilience enablement’ into front line units. It sounds nice and I’m sure soldiers will be happy to skip gun picquets for a massage followed by a discussion about diced beetroot and avocado salad while sharing a combat ration pack with the food expert.
A third says deterrence should be achieved through the introduction of weapon systems with a range of more than 1,000 km.
Perhaps, by 2030, the Australian Army should win nuclear wars in space too.
And clichés abound. The word ‘compassionate’ is readily bandied about. Other suggestions demand that the Army be ‘admired for its ethics’ or that it defends the ‘efficacious traits of human nature’ and is a ‘benevolent force’.
It doesn’t end there either.
By 2030 every rifleman should be ‘a linguist first, a killer second’ while the Army should have a ‘culture of holistic agility’ with ‘culturally sensitive’ training.
If the question was a good one, the responses to it indicate that the Army’s vaunted ‘cognitive edge’ has not yet been realised.
Above all of this, one idea stands out. It calls for the Army to almost double in size by 2030 to 50,000.
This idea, in particular, highlights the problem with this challenge: everyone and anyone can dream up 100 words describing what the Army could look like in 2030.
It is far more sobering to consider what the Army will be in 2030, given what it is doing today. And based on what it is doing today, the Army is going to face an enormous struggle just to maintain its current size over the next decade.
Essentially, you could describe what the Australian Army will be in 2030 in a single word: broken.
If I was going to expand upon it, I would state this:
In 2030, the Australian Army will be equipped with a range of more or less highly capable weaponry but it will be incapable of fighting or winning conventional wars on its own, or even playing a significant role as a coalition partner in such conflicts, in part due to its small size but primarily because its focus on women will have eroded its ability to sustainably deploy its forces.
Much could be said about whether the Army should be larger or equipped with bigger and better bombs. But these questions will always be secondary if the small teams inside the Army are not capable of combining effectively to use the resources it has.
Demography is destiny, as the saying goes, and by 2030 the Army will be radically different from any military force that has ever won a war in history.
That goes for the Royal Australian Navy (RAN) and the Royal Australian Air Force (RAAF) as well.
The Australian Defence Force’s (ADF) demographic revolution began, as all revolutions do, in bizarre circumstances: a male officer cadet, a female officer cadet and a sexual encounter broadcast via a video camera over Skype.
As far as things go, this scandal should not have caused a revolution. If anything, it was dramatic proof that sexual attractions result in problems that the military would prefer to avoid. It should have given cause to pause for thought over the small-scale, politically-correct push for greater female participation already underway in the ADF.
Instead, it was the catalyst for an industrial-scale feminist campaign to remove testosterone from the military.
The event that caused this revolution was also entirely predictable. It, or something just like it, was always bound to happen.
Consider the circumstances.
In the background is a society with a schizophrenic moral approach to sex. It simultaneously promotes pornography, promiscuity, prostitution, abnegation of responsibility and disdain for marriage while celebrating puritanical feminist outrage that demonises men for pursuing the very thing that drove ‘sexual liberation’ and which the most ‘sexually-liberated’ women of all profit from: lust.
Added to this is a media that is always interested in military scandal. And a political class that cravenly caters for woke outrage and oversees a bureaucracy of rent-seekers dedicated to using the apparatus of state to impose their insane morality of madness.
In this environment hundreds of fit and healthy young men and women, most barely past the age of 18 (and some not even there), are removed from their families every year and thrust into the Australian Defence Force Academy under little supervision. And the higher echelons of the ADF have completely given up the pretence of risk mitigation: each accommodation block at the Academy is mixed-gender.
Anyone who knows anything about humans will also know what happens next.
This is the culture that a revolution fermented in.
The Skype scandal unleashed an avalanche which the waiting cultural vultures have skilfully manipulated for their own agenda.
Since 2012 the direction and values of the ADF have largely been shaped by the Australian Human Rights Commission and officers who have gone on to acclaim and well-paying gigs as social justice activists. The military is being used by social warriors to win cultural wars, instead of training combat warriors to fight real wars.
Moreover, the political class is entirely complicit in this or simply too afraid to do anything about it.
The push to feminise the ADF was unleashed by the Gillard/Rudd Labor governments under the direction of former Defence Minister, Stephen Smith, in 2012. And it has continued unabated under the Coalition, whether it has been led by Tony Abbott, Malcolm Turnbull or Scott Morrison.
In just a few years it has already revolutionised the composition of the military. It is literally being ‘de-manned’. This will come with disastrous consequences: an erosion of experience, flexibility, capability and cohesion.
Over the next few days, I will outline what is going on inside the ADF today and the consequences it will unleash by 2030.
But, first, a point: I do not question the bravery, commitment or talent of women who serve or wish to do so. Instead, I acknowledge they have these traits and in abundance.
What I also acknowledge is this: men are physically stronger than women and fathers simply do not require the same workplace flexibility as mothers in order to raise a family. On top of this, sexual tension between men and women is such a powerful force that it ensures the survival of the human race, often to the detriment of public vows and commitments of fidelity, causing lasting and irreparable damage within relationships both at work and at home.
It is a fool’s errand to wish these truths away and no amount of politically-correct jargon will ever do so.
Individual bravery, commitment and talent do not win wars. The ability to collectively harness these traits in an organised fashion is required for success on the battlefield.
The ADF’s feminist workplace settings have prioritised the individual above the team. This is the real essence of the revolution.
Yet it has not been discussed and the impacts have not been assessed. The changes have been imposed from on high with an Austin Powers-like wave of the hands but the result is not a comedy: it will be a tragedy that gambles the lives of young Australians, both male and female, so that retiring military officers and politicians can win plaudits and baubles from the politically-correct class.
Stay tuned over coming days as the remainder of this series is published.
I would love to hear your thoughts and experiences about the feminisation of the ADF. Please comment below or email me at firstname.lastname@example.org.