In their most recent book, the first independent investigation into military administrative abuse in the American Defence Force, Ben Wadham and James Connor explain that “participants expected the costs of war, but they were not prepared for the prices of service.”
Warrior, Soldier, Brigand draws on interviews with almost 70 victims and analyses every review and investigation into military society ( 35 in full ) since the Vietnam War.
It’s a heartbreaking accounts of more than a century of common administrative misuse in Australia’s military forces. Brutality was carefully inflicted on young recruits, who were beaten, violated and humiliated under the justification of “bastardization”. In a hypersexualized culture, sexism and gender-based crime were widespread.
Women were constantly at risk of sexual abuse from their bosses and peers. This misuse was often compounded by a” next assault”, where patients were punished for reporting, with managerial abuse and “mob fairness”.
The terms “warrior, soldier, brigand”, which describe different military identities, are contested ( as the authors concede ). The Brereton review, which found” reliable” data to indict 25 current or former American special forces personnel in the immoral dying of 39 people in Afghanistan, also found that alleged war criminals self-identified as “warrior champions”.
However, these terms are not used by the authors to explain their findings. They use the key values they identify in Australian military culture: martial, fraternal and exceptional. These values, they show, are twisted into an obsession with violence, exclusivity and elitism within the Australian Defence Force.
The book begins by outlining the” character of military institutional abuse” before focusing on different kinds of abuse in three eras: bastardization ( 1969–87 ), gender-based violence ( 1987–96 ), and administrative abuse and military justice reform ( 1996–2011 ). This violence, the authors write, serves to maintain the military institution.
The Australian Defence Force’s cultural analyses from 2011 to 2022 are the focus of the final two chapters. They provide insight into survivors ‘ experiences of abuse as well as how patterns of abuse continue to exist today. Finally, the book explores the ethicalness of international organizations like the Australian Defence Force.
Hazing or torture?
Bastardization is described as a form of fraternal violence. It brutalizes those perceived to be inferior to foster a brotherhood that is “exclusive, defensive, and aggressive in sustaining its dominance”.
The authors trace the origins of bastardization to “fagging” at British private schools, a custom that used older boys to treat younger boys as servants and obediently humiliated them. Similar practices immediately emerged when the Royal Military College was established at Duntroon in 1911.
Bastardization is based on the idea that separating people allows them to be reunited as a whole. These hazing rituals foster lifelong bonds between the perpetrators:” As young men advance in rank and status, their brotherhood extends to ADF leadership and governance.”
The details of bastardization are horrific. Many times I believed the term” torture” would have been more appropriate to describe the physical, sexual, and psychological abuse Australian service personnel were subject to by one another.
Collective hazing rituals included being tied to moving vehicles, covered in foul chemicals, forced to eat bodily waste, thrown off ladders and tables with fire hoses, and belted with knotted wet towels and belts. Blanket bashings, sleep deprivation and gang rape were described as routine.
Sexual violence was particularly pronounced. Basetardization is “heavily invested in certain body parts,” including forcing victims to sex with superiors, injuring genitalia, and penetrating body parts with objects. According to Wadham and Connor, ADF members must” choose between being a victim or an offender” because they frequently “escape being the victim of violence.”
The authors excluded “lower levels of bastardization” from their study because” they are generally intended for training”. In this sense, the book parallels the Brereton report, in which only clear-cut cases of war crimes were examined and “fog of war” incidents were excluded.
Yet, just as examining “fog of war” incidents reveals how deliberate war crimes were disguised as legitimate operations, examining how these “lower levels” of violence developed, operate, and are justified would reveal how brutality evolved to become standard practice in ADF training.
Date rape, morning porn and ‘ survivor sex ‘
In the 1980s, women constituted 6.5 % of the ADF. By the 1990s, that percentage had nearly doubled, and today, women make up around 20 % of the Australian military.
Sexual violence against women was becoming more prevalent in the ADF as the gender dynamics changed. Wadham and Connor argue the growing presence of women intensified the sexualized culture of the military to reiterate the “white, hypermasculinist” fraternity.
A method of humiliation and reputation destruction was used during the date rape. Sexual assault was often done by superiors, in view of other serving members, and always followed by a” code of silence, victim-blaming and discouragement from commanders and military police”. One interviewee sought support after being assaulted, but was warned by the military psychologist:” Defense does n’t look fondly on people that see a psychologist”.
Some women were coerced into” survival sex” in exchange for protection due to constant threats and acts of violence from peers. In one of the book’s most heartbreaking testimonies, a young aviator was forced into sleeping with her sergeant for years to stop other abuse. Then I learned that he was actually responsible for the years-long stalking and sexual assault that had taken place.
A deeply misogynistic culture supported sexual violence against women. Harassment of women was a “daily occurrence” in the 1980s. By the 1990s, women reported practices such as “pornos in the mornos” – watching porn at morning tea in communal spaces.
Harassment and intimidation continue to this day: in 2018, one woman claimed she was” choosing not to eat, not go out, not do any sites” to avoid the executive officer who was constantly harassing her. When she reported him, she was informed that” I would have had a better case if I had allowed it to advance to rape.”
More than 300 abusive terms that reduced women to literal sexual objects were included in a 1993 book of cadet slang, according to Wadham and Connor. These included:” a body to wank into, cum bucket, fuck bag, life support system for a cunt”. This language was taught daily and was steeped in the culture from the top down.
One veteran claimed that her instructor “would talk about how to get the daughter thrown in for a dollar and where to get the cheapest sex in Asia.” The authors analyze the function of banter in the military, explaining that “lingo” works to” create a shared culture” but can also be used to “target, exclude, belittle”. The sexualized “banter” was frequently used to stifle women and was” the first step in creating cultures of abuse and violence” ( p. 1 ).
The book’s focus on gender dynamics in the military is a key strength. However, race is not afforded the same scrutiny.
Wadham and Connor stress the whiteness of the Australian military identity and acknowledge the deaths of non-white soldiers ( suicide and murder ). However, more research on the racial dynamics of institutional abuse would have helped, especially given the strategic significance of ADF-placed cultural diversity.
Punishing the victims
The ADF’s prevalence of administrative abuse, known as a” second assault” after reporting physical or sexual abuse, is one of its most important findings. This intentionally plagiarizes the hierarchy and disciplinary frameworks in order to punish those who violate silence.
This top-down abuse is often reinforced with “mob justice” in the form of alienation, harassment, sabotage and physical violence by peers. Anyone who has the guts to speak out about institutional violence is intended to be broken by administrative abuse. It demonstrates institutional aversion to handling other forms of abuse.
The overwhelming evidence of administrative abuse in the book contradicts the ADF’s claim that it is promoting cultural change and weeding out “bad apples.”
Wadham and Connor show that the ADF has overlooked, condoned, minimized and covered up widespread institutional abuse” for more than a century”. They come to the conclusion that the ADF simply “tinkers around the edges” when responding to scandals. Efforts at redress, they conclude, were poorly implemented.
The Defence Abuse Task Force response, for instance, was described by the ADF Association’s Victims of Abuse as “more concerned with keeping a lid on things than fully supporting victims” after the Skype sex scandal in 2011.
Ongoing efforts toward military reform, they say, are more about” slowing scrutiny and defusing critique” than addressing the core problems. Meanwhile, they show that cultures of bastardization, gender-based violence and mob justice persist at Duntroon.
A damning indictment
Warrior, Soldier, Brigand is a damning indictment of the Australian Defence Force. Many survivors endured excruciating trauma and were forced to leave their jobs by an organization that purports to protect Australians. Many did not survive.
The book shows that military institutional abuse weakens Australia’s defense capability. Individuals are incapable of focusing on their work because they are aggressive toward peers and superiors. Many are forced to leave the service – either by discharge, or suicide.
Institutional abuse breeds a military force that is more likely to use excessive and unlawful violence among those who remain. The authors also question whether an ethical military could exist, but their own research suggests that the Australian military has n’t tried.
Mia Martin Hobbs is research fellow, Deakin University
This article was republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.