In their groundbreaking book Warrior, Soldier, Brigand, Ben Wadham and James Connor explore the dark underbelly of the Australian Defence Force (ADF) in the first independent study of institutional abuse within the military. Through interviews with nearly 70 survivors and a detailed analysis of 35 reviews and inquiries into military culture dating back to the Vietnam War, the authors uncover a harrowing narrative of violence, abuse, and a culture that has long resisted reform.
“Participants expected the costs of war, but they were not prepared for the costs of service,” Wadham and Connor assert in their book. This distinction underscores a crucial point: while soldiers are trained for the horrors of combat, few are ready to face the horrors inflicted upon them by their own comrades and superiors. The institutional abuse described in the book is not an occasional lapse or isolated incident but a widespread, sustained system of brutality and violence that stretches back over a century.
One of the most pervasive forms of abuse identified in the book is “bastardization,” a term used to describe violent hazing rituals inflicted on junior cadets. This fraternal violence, which the authors trace back to the British practice of “fagging” at private schools, emerged immediately upon the establishment of the Royal Military College at Duntroon in 1911. Designed to break down and rebuild individuals into a cohesive unit, bastardization rationalized brutality as a necessary evil for fostering brotherhood.
However, the details of this violence go far beyond what most would consider hazing. The authors describe collective rituals of torment that were systematic and grotesque. Cadets were beaten with knotted wet towels and belts, doused with chemicals, and strapped to moving vehicles. Even more disturbingly, gang rapes, sexual assaults, and sleep deprivation became routine methods for controlling and punishing new recruits. These violent acts served not only to bond perpetrators but also to perpetuate a culture of dominance and fear.
Wadham and Connor make the compelling case that this brutalization forces soldiers into a dangerous binary: they must either be a victim or a perpetrator. The survival strategy for many, particularly in an institution built on violence and hierarchy, is to become a participant in the abuse, thereby perpetuating the cycle. The long-term psychological and moral damage inflicted upon those involved is immense, and the effects often linger for years, if not a lifetime.
As women entered the ADF in greater numbers from the 1980s onward, gender-based violence emerged as another pervasive form of abuse. In the 1980s, women made up just 6.5% of the ADF, but by the 1990s that figure had doubled, and today women constitute around 20% of the Australian military. Rather than adapting to this shift, Wadham and Connor argue that the hypermasculinist culture of the ADF grew more entrenched, weaponizing sexual violence to maintain the dominance of the male fraternity.
One of the most chilling revelations of Warrior, Soldier, Brigand is the extent to which sexual violence was used as a strategy for control. Date rape, harassment, and sexual assault were not just isolated incidents but part of a broader campaign of intimidation. In one testimony, a woman described being coerced into “survival sex” with a superior officer to avoid further abuse from her peers. Tragically, she later discovered that the same man was orchestrating the harassment she was trying to escape.
The book documents how, in many cases, victims who reported their assaults faced a “second assault” in the form of administrative abuse. The deliberate misuse of military hierarchies to punish those who broke the code of silence is described as a pervasive issue within the ADF. Survivors were often subjected to harassment, alienation, and sabotage by their peers, as well as career-destroying administrative actions from their superiors. Rather than being supported, those who reported their abuse were often driven out of the military entirely.
The pervasive misogyny in the ADF, which enabled and normalized this culture of sexual violence, is another central theme of the book. Harassment of women, especially in the 1980s and 1990s, was a daily occurrence. The authors describe practices such as “pornos in the mornos” – the viewing of pornography during communal morning tea breaks – as emblematic of the hypersexualized environment women were forced to endure.
One particularly damning example of the ADF’s toxic culture is drawn from a 1993 collection of cadet slang, which contained over 300 abusive terms reducing women to sexual objects. Terms like “cum bucket” and “fuck bag” were part of daily military discourse, used to degrade women and cement their status as outsiders in the male-dominated institution. This deeply ingrained misogyny not only contributed to the physical abuse women suffered but also acted as a constant reminder that they were unwelcome interlopers in the male fraternity.
While the book focuses largely on gender dynamics, Wadham and Connor also touch on race and the whiteness of Australian military identity. However, they stop short of fully examining how racial dynamics intersect with the culture of abuse in the ADF, leaving an important avenue for further investigation. Given the increasing diversity of the ADF, and the strategic importance of that diversity, this omission is significant.
Perhaps one of the most troubling aspects of the book is its revelation of widespread administrative abuse within the ADF. This form of abuse typically occurs after a victim of physical or sexual violence attempts to report the crime. Instead of being offered support, victims are often subjected to punitive actions designed to silence them and deter others from coming forward.
This “second assault” is reinforced by what Wadham and Connor call “mob justice,” where peers harass and isolate the whistleblower in a bid to protect the institution’s reputation. Administrative abuse is a clear sign, they argue, of the ADF’s institutional aversion to addressing abuse. Rather than tackling the problem head-on, the ADF has historically responded by protecting its image, punishing victims, and sweeping scandals under the rug.
Wadham and Connor also challenge the ADF’s narrative of cultural reform. Despite numerous reviews, inquiries, and efforts to address these issues, the authors argue that the ADF’s actions have been largely cosmetic, more focused on containing scandals than on implementing meaningful change. In their view, ongoing efforts at military reform serve primarily to “slow scrutiny and defuse critique” rather than to address the core problems at the heart of the institution.
The cumulative impact of institutional abuse on both individuals and the ADF itself is profound. Survivors of abuse are left to grapple with severe psychological trauma, and many have had their careers cut short by an institution that has failed to protect them. Suicide rates among veterans and serving personnel reflect the devastating mental health toll that these experiences have inflicted.
For those who remain in the military, institutional abuse fosters a force inclined to use excessive and unlawful violence. The book draws a parallel between the internal culture of violence within the ADF and the findings of the Brereton report, which implicated Australian special forces in the unlawful killings of 39 people in Afghanistan. The same warped values of dominance, violence, and brotherhood that govern internal ADF dynamics, the authors argue, have been exported to the battlefield.
Warrior, Soldier, Brigand is a damning indictment of the Australian Defence Force. Wadham and Connor lay bare the institution’s longstanding and systemic culture of abuse, showing how brutality, misogyny, and administrative malfeasance have been allowed to fester for over a century. This institutional violence has not only destroyed the lives of countless ADF members but also weakened the very force tasked with protecting Australia’s national security.
In the final chapters of their book, Wadham and Connor question whether an ethical military can exist at all, given the institutionalized nature of abuse in the ADF. The answer, it seems, is a resounding “no.” The culture of violence, secrecy, and elitism that permeates the ADF is so deeply entrenched that meaningful change remains elusive. And while there have been efforts to reform the institution, the authors suggest that these have been little more than window dressing.
For the survivors of abuse, the scars – both physical and psychological – remain. Many will live with the trauma of their experiences for the rest of their lives, while others have already succumbed to the weight of their suffering. The ADF, an institution designed to protect, has instead inflicted profound harm on those who serve within its ranks. Warrior, Soldier, Brigand challenges Australians to reckon with this dark legacy and to demand a military that truly lives up to its values of honor, duty, and respect.
