Form Over Function
The Army’s newest personal appearance regulations imply that conformity, rather than the warrior ethic, is its priority
Every now and then, a nation’s leaders must remind themselves of the purpose their military forces exist to serve. During the Peninsular War (1808-1814) while the Duke of Wellington was trying to defeat French forces in Spain, he was consistently harangued by bureaucrats in London, whose priorities seemed to be all manner of trivialities. In response, Wellington allegedly sent a letter presenting his superiors with a choice of purpose for his army:
“This brings me to my present purpose, which is to request elucidation of my instructions from His Majesty’s Government so that I may better understand why I am dragging an army over these barren plains. I construe that perforce it must be one of two alternative duties, as given below. I shall pursue one with the best of my ability, but I cannot do both. 1. To train an army of uniformed British clerks in Spain for the benefit of the accountants and copy-boys in London, or, perchance, 2. To see to it that the forces of Napoleon are driven out of Spain.”
The U.S. Army today is increasingly finding itself in a related confusion of priorities as it “transitions” from a wartime Army to a peacetime one (though the idea of this dichotomy itself is poisonous to the profession).
A recent example is the focus on form rather than function that is embodied in updated regulations regarding appearance. Most of these measures are negligible adjustments from previous regulations, and some, are probably necessary. But more significantly, the policy is emblematic of the Army’s approach to solving problems relating to professionalism. The policy demonstrates a focus on easy-to-implement and superficial efforts rather than more difficult but more substantive ones. The hyper-focus on the imagined trappings of professionalism reflect an Army targeting symptoms, rather than the underlying disease.
The Army is being asked to do more with less resources and therefore is challenged to become more efficient in order to stay as effective, but has yet to adopt the comprehensive cultural change that will make it so. The Army has a personnel management system that does not adequately weed-out toxic leaders. The Army still uses an industrial age model for the training and management of soldiers. The Army still educates leaders in a manner that hinders critical/creative thinking, initiative and responsibility. The Army is increasingly witnessing a decline in its professional warrior culture. The Army is increasingly focused on technological solutions, misappropriating resources from the development of critical thinkers and innovative ideas. These issues are actually critical to the Army profession. And yet, in this time of budgetary uncertainty, where the Army’s very relevance in executing the nation’s missions is being questioned, the organization is focusing time, money and manpower on haircuts and tattoos.
Ostensibly, the measures exist to make the Army more professional. But one cannot hand a person a stethoscope and lab coat and believe that this will make him a doctor. The uniform does not make the professional. To create a doctor requires years of schooling, training, and experience — it is a significant endeavor, as creating professionals always is. But rather than engaging in the necessary efforts required to create a professional rather than mobilization-style military culture, the Army appears to be taking an easier but ultimately futile approach — that of publishing a policy focused on appearance and pretending that this will bring about the desired result. In actuality, it will likely bring about the opposite result.
The Sergeant Major of the Army recently stated that, “The appearance of tattoos detracts from a uniformed service.” But what detracts infinitely more is valuing appearance over quality — the assumption that what a soldier looks like is more important than what contribution the soldier makes to the unit’s performance. What really detracts from the service is the blind application of arbitrary bias or a flawed heuristic when the time and tools to do actual analysis are available. What message does this type of policy send to soldiers and leaders about critical thinking? About problem solving? About priorities? Ironically, this misguided policy towards ‘professionalism’ is itself anti-professional, as it undermines those characteristics that true professionals should have.
The Sergeant Major of the Army stated that tattoos draw attention to the individual, which is detrimental because, “You are part of something larger.” Such reasoning harkens back to obsolete ideas about the role of soldiers as automatons, when if anything, we have learned that identifying and harnessing the talents of individuals enhances a unit’s effectiveness. Uniformity for uniformity’s sake should have been retired with the tactics of the line and column. Placing the organization before oneself is absolutely necessary, but there are far more meaningful ways to do so. The Sergeant Major of the Army is indeed correct that soldiers are part of something larger than themselves…and so is he. Acting as the Senior Enlisted Advisor to the Chief of Staff of the Army, his duty to the organization is to focus on what makes it better at its mission, what makes it more combat effective. But the policy he is advocating may do exactly the opposite and should be reevaluated and rescinded.
For the Army to deny a non-commissioned officer the opportunity to become an officer because he has tattoos on his arms confirms that the organization’s focus is dangerously misplaced. In this case, the NCO’s leadership, knowledge, and professionalism are not being evaluated — rather an irrelevant aspect of his appearance. This is precisely the opposite of what occurred when armies moved away from filling their officer ranks with the aristocratic class and moved toward merit based systems. The truth is that individuals should be singled out…but for their merit, their skill, their ability. By favoring or denying a man for appearance over his capability, not only is the Army failing at developing professionalism, but it is putting soldiers’ lives at risk by denying them good leaders based on frivolous restrictions.
A leader should care more about whether a non-commissioned officer can train soldiers than whether he has tattoos on his arms or legs. He should care more about whether a sergeant can lead men in combat than about how long his hair is or whether he has a beard or not. Some of the best leaders and the most professional men the author has known have had their entire arms covered with tattoos. They also had double digit deployments each, have been responsible for the capture or elimination of hundreds of enemy leaders and have been awarded for valor multiple times. These men were far more professional than the men who wore khaki pants and blue blazers to social events, maintained their high and tight weekly, and judged others on their 2-mile run time. The true warriors were dedicated to their craft, sought to improve their knowledge every day, and truly cared about their mission. They took pride in doing their job and in doing it well. They knew that performing their duty to the best of their ability was the best way to serve the organization. As such, these men didn’t need to be told to cover up those tattoos if they happened to be meeting with an audience that might judge a man for them. They were aware of the organization they were representing, and with whom they were dealing. This is precisely because they were true professionals, who could exercise judgment, act responsibly, and think for themselves.
It has been said of discipline that, “This was discipline. Ideally, it should well up out of the men, not be imposed upon them.”
Evan Munsing notes in a brilliant article in Small Wars Journal that Lord Moran made much the same observations about the lessons of WWI: “For this reason, we should not equate discipline and the ability to perform under fire with dainty behavior on liberty or ‘polished buttons, erect carriage and things of that kind… [as they] are not the cause but effect’ of internal discipline.”
What is true of discipline is true of professionalism. It does not come from crisp uniforms, unmarked skin, or the ability to repeat a list of values. It does not come from classes on ethics. Professionalism does not appear when one has memorized a code, it results when one comes to live by a code.
Professionalism results when men seek to master their art — to be the best at what they do. Professionalism results comes when one views his duty as not only more important than he is but as a part of who he is. The professional doesn’t require superficial symbols to broadcast his expertise. He knows that his performance, ability, and expertise are tangible evidence of a true professionalism, not the illusion of it.
Munsing highlights this fact by comparing contemporary ideas of discipline to ancient Roman ones: “For such men, dressing in polo shirts on liberty would not have qualified as setting the example, rather, living frugally, ‘banishing luxuries on every hand,’ and embracing hardship and pain with calmness would have been the essence of military virtue.”
What is being described is the warrior culture. This is the ultimate source of professionalism in the Army and the decline of it has created many of the problems from which the Army is suffering.
As noted, the Army often prefers easy-to-implement and low-cost efforts over effective ones. But to rectify its problems will require a cultural shift, a much more comprehensive change than an ‘ethics advisor’ or a uniform policy could hope to affect. A person who must be told sexual assault is wrong should never have been allowed in to the force, let alone promoted to general officer ranks. But the solution is not to weaken commanders and further degrade that culture. The solution is to fix the problems that allowed such a person entry and elevation. Nor are conferences pontificating about the ‘Army ethic’ the solution, for the ethic of a professional soldiery has been understood for thousands of years.
G.I. Wilson was correct when he wrote that, “The U.S. military is not led by a Centurion or Spartan class of hardened professionals.” But it should be.
If the Army truly wanted professionals it would focus on the weakness of its professional warrior culture, which has been neutered by things like the imposition of civilian values on the military, political correctness, and risk aversion. This lack of the warrior ethic is the wellspring from which all the problems of discipline, integrity, ethics, toxic leadership and general incompetence emanate. Yet, the Army is pursuing a policy that creates an atmosphere inimical to military professionalism.
As long as the Army focuses on the superficial rather than substantive, the professionalism it seeks will remain outside its grasp.
“I’d like to have two armies: one for display with lovely guns, tanks, little soldiers, staffs, distinguished and doddering Generals, and dear little regimental officers who would be deeply concerned over their General’s bowel movements or their Colonel’s piles, an army that would be shown for a modest fee on every fairground in the country. The other would be the real one, composed entirely of young enthusiasts in camouflage uniforms, who would not be put on display, but from whom impossible efforts would be demanded and to whom all sorts of tricks would be taught. That’s the army in which I should like to fight.” — Jean Larteguy, The Centurions
