20 May 2026
‘They gave their lives …’
These words mark the entrance to the Hall of Memory, where the Unknown Soldier quietly rests … known only unto God.
We are on hallowed ground this evening. Hallowed ground for the nation, hallowed ground for all Australians whom have served, and hallowed ground for our Army.
Two ridgelines to the north and east of here, on the lower slopes of Mount Pleasant, lies the Royal Military College, Duntroon.
The founding of the College in 1911 was the founding of the Army profession. RMC Duntroon was the first sovereign institution dedicated to the education and training of military professionals whose duty is to fight and win Australia’s wars.
The same commitment to service burns brightly in RMC’s next cohorts of graduates, many of whom are here among us this evening.
Behind me is the Army Banner, which routinely rests on a pike in Army headquarters.
We are by nature and by design a modest Army, and our Banner – like our colours, guidons and standards – is certainly the grandest item we possess: a treasure of silk, gold, crimson and gilt.
I walk past the Army Banner daily. It is an ever-present reminder of more than 125 years of service and sacrifice by Australian soldiers, from the Boer War to Afghanistan.
The reality of our bloody history is difficult to comprehend in the wake of what has been a comparatively peaceful age. At Passchendaele in October 1917, for example, thirty-five Australian soldiers died for every metre of ground taken from the enemy. Every soldier in this room would have fallen for fifteen metres of mud, only for it to be retaken by the enemy three days later.
The Australian War Memorial stands witness to the full arc that scribes the history of the Army profession – our profession.
The sixty-six Victoria Crosses on display not fifty meters away represent the very best we can be … the willingness to fulfil the contract of unlimited liability, to put mission and mates before oneself, to define the essence of service in a crowded moment.
But these walls also bear witness to the dark shadows of our history: the moments when we have been the lesser, and surrendered to the corrupting nature of war.
This darkness is somehow reflective and mirror like. It demands our attention.
It demands more of us.
Our history – as a national institution, a profession and a fighting force – rests here, for good and for ill. As Charles Bean, who first imagined this Memorial, wrote after Gallipoli:
‘What these men did, nothing can alter now. The good and the bad; the greatness and the smallness of their story; it rises, it always rises, above the mists of ages … a monument to great hearted men and for their nation a possession forever’.
There is no more apt place for us to congregate, as Australians and as soldiers, to discuss the most consequential matters that bear on the state of our profession.
Two years ago, our National Defence Strategy warned that Australia is facing the most challenging strategic circumstances since the Second World War. This diagnosis has proven correct. Today, war and violence are once again a common extension of politics.
The Government’s direction to our Army was equally unambiguous. Transform to meet the demands of these new circumstances. Be focused. Optimise for littoral manoeuvre, and long-range strike. We have taken a deliberately, comprehensive approach to our transformation. Our circumstances demand nothing less.
This is why, two years ago, I commissioned a review of the state of the Army profession. We needed to examine our fundamentals, the visceral centre of our character and of our purpose.
In my introductory lecture on this topic in late 2024, I observed that the Army and our profession has always – throughout our history since Federation – sharply contracted in the inter-war periods, the result of naivety, optimism and divestment.
The cost of such inter-war thinking, and the so-called ‘peace dividend’ that invariably follows, is always paid in the opening stages of the next war … and it is paid in the blood of soldiers.
In directing this review, my aim was to fulfil my obligation as the current steward of our profession and of our Army.
To do all I can today to avoid adding more soldiers’ names to the Rolls of Honour that stand at the heart of this memorial.
Tonight, I will share with you … the future of the Army profession … what we have learned about ourselves through our introspection … and importantly, what has been and is to be done in response.
I will do this through the lens of the three pillars which framed our review. First, our jurisdiction: that is the unique service we provide to the society for whom exist to serve. Second, our expertise, and the professional body of knowledge for which we are responsible, and upon which we rely. And finally, our capacity for self-regulation: that is our ability to maintain professional standards in the face of violence and the corrupting nature of war.
At the outset let me give you the simple and inescapable conclusion.
Our Army must become more professional if we are to overcome the gravity of our past and the seeming inevitability of our future.
Some may argue that the Army is drifting from a profession to being an occupation, and that … like war’s ever-changing character … this is inevitable.
That the products of the fourth industrial revolution will replace the human dimension of war, and consign the Army profession to history.
Others suggest that the next generation of Australians is simply not up to the task, and will be unwilling to fight for their families, their fellow Australians, and our way of life.
Our review refutes these ideas, and the cynicism that underpins them.
We instead believe we must double-down on the Army profession.
Invest even more in our relationship – and dialogue with – the society we exist to serve. In our esprit de corps, our identity, and the clarity of our purpose.
In our understanding of the ‘contract of unlimited liability’, in our will to fight, and in the personal commitment in our hearts to those on our left and those on our right.
This is essential, indeed non-discretionary if we are to fulfil our duty to our fellow Australians, and meet the demands of this age and the next.
The first of the three pillars of the Army profession we have examined is our jurisdiction: the unique service we provide to the society we exist to serve.
This is the primary pillar, the wellspring from which the others flow. It bounds the Army’s purpose, and it defines the space within which our unique expert knowledge is applied. Put simply, it is why we exist.
At the ANU’s National Security College last year I outlined two challenges to our jurisdiction. First, I considered that it lacked clarity … that a thousand Australians would give a thousand different answers if asked about the purpose of their Army, and its reason for being.
This, I argued, was also the product of the so-called ‘wars of choice’, and the prevailing domestic crises that have characterised most of the past half century.
Second, I posited that the Army does not choose its own jurisdiction. In a liberal democracy, a healthy discourse between society, the Army, and our elected representatives is fundamental.
After a year of reflection, I am confident in this diagnosis. I am also convinced that clarity of purpose and open discourse are not discretionary, especially in an era of great power competition.
Over the last year the Army has worked to clarify our jurisdiction, and to articulate it plainly and clearly.
We understand our purpose, the endeavour in which we must always succeed. It is unambiguous. We exist to fight and win our nation’s wars.
We are our nation’s experts in combat from, on and onto the land.
Our profession finds expression in application on the battlefield. The currency of our profession is military force, applied ethically in the defence of Australia.
We must optimise to fight and win on potential battlefields among the littorals that characterise our continent and our region – to ensure that we fulfil our obligations to our joint team mates as part of the national strategy of deterrence by denial.
Such clarity has already proven invaluable to us as an Army. It focuses every aspect of our profession: our concepts, our command and control, our capability, and our culture. We are clear on our purpose and our mission. As a result, more of our soldiers are serving for longer, and more Australians want to join our Army.
This is good, but there is more to be done to clarify our jurisdiction to our fellow Australians. To achieve a common understanding between the Army, society and our elected representatives.
Language and professional lexicon are a good place to start. Last year the Deputy Chief of Army spoke plainly and compellingly at the Chief of Army’s history conference about the need for honesty in the way we talk about our profession.
For example, a time where soldiers are using weapons to kill other soldiers for political ends is ‘war’, rather than conflict.
Officers do not ‘manage’ soldiers, they lead and they exercise command, in line with the authorities conferred upon them by the Defence Act.
War’s enduring nature will never be sanitised, or simplified. It remains as it always has been: violent, brutal, unpredictable, and replete with paradox and ethical dilemma. There is no other human endeavour like it.
The language of our profession must recognise and represent the unique, enduring and fundamentally human nature of war.
We must be disciplined in how we speak of it as a phenomenon, and of our role in war. This is essential to understanding war’s effects on our soldiers, on our society, and on our nation.
Disciplined professional language is one foundational way to strengthen the dialogue between the Army, society and our elected representatives … and to strengthen ‘civil-military relations’.
The dialogue must be healthy if we are to succeed in meeting our collective duty of defending Australia and its interests.
Each element of the trinity – soldier, citizen and elected representative – must understand its role and responsibility in defending our nation … and also the roles of each other.
The Army’s duty is to prepare the means to fight and win our nation’s wars. We do this by creating soldiers from civilians. We form them into teams with ties as profound as family. We train them for combat. Our training is necessarily hard, dynamic, and as realistic as safely possible.
To do any less is to leave our soldiers unprepared for what might be required of us. This would be irresponsible at least, and immoral at worst.
The society we exist to serve provides the soldiers. There is no shortage of those willing to serve, nor of the calibre of our applicants. Indeed, this generation of soldiers is the best we have ever had.
Our elected representatives have perhaps the most difficult role in the trinity. They must weigh all the needs of the nation, securing not just the present but also our future. They must make the hardest of decisions to send Australians to war, and to accept and carry the moral burden such choices imply.
During the so-called ‘wars of choice’ of this last twenty years or so, our nation enjoyed the luxury of tolerating somewhat indifferent set of relationships among this trinity. The wars of Iraq and Afghanistan did not touch the lives of the vast majority of Australians.
But not today. Today’s wars – equally as distant from our shores as the last – are already affecting our way and quality of life. Our circumstances, redefined by a new era of great power competition, demand that this trinity is strengthened. There is little utility in romanticised or stereotyped views, nor in casual assumptions or misunderstandings.
The trinity is – by design – inherently symbiotic, implying the obligation to develop understanding, empathy and humility.
These are the foundations of trust, without which unity of effort is compromised … and the consequences severe.
Our review found that there is a clear and compelling case for a renaissance in civil-military relations in Australia, to foster deeper and stronger dialogue within the trinity.
The Army is seeking to do our part. The Army’s symposium last year, which focused on the ‘Army in Society’, was part of our contribution to strengthening this compact. We intend to do more in the future to host, foster and play our part in this discourse.
Renaissance, however, will not be achieved without reciprocity across the trinity. Dialogue requires it.
This will require hard discussions. But rarely before has the need been so clear, absent a major war, nor the opportunity for clarity greater than in the current geostrategic circumstances.
For us as soldiers, the clearer our jurisdiction, the easier it is to address the second pillar of the Army profession: our expertise, and the unique professional body of knowledge for which we are both responsible for maintaining and upon which we rely.
Our expertise – and the education, training and systems of experience that underpin it – are the ‘ways’ in which we translate the theory of the Army into practice.
As I framed last year, this is the pillar where we are perhaps the best placed, the benefit of generations of investment and experience.
Our review found, however, that while the system is well-designed, there are weaknesses in application that prevent us from realising its full potential in the face of the ever more rapidly changing character of war. This demands our attention and action.
The first challenge is that our expertise has become disconnected from the realities of war, and the visceral demands of the battlefield.
We have blurred the curriculum of our profession, diluting it through broad concepts of ‘securitisation’, and overly-technocratic conceptions of how we wage war.
The Army has moved to correct this dilution this last year; to re-found the curriculum of our profession on the study of the philosophy, history, theory and the human realities of war, balanced with the impact of technology on the prosecution of contemporary warfare.
In March this year, we released the first volume of what will become a broader series of publications entitled ‘The Essentials of War’. The first book is simply called ‘The Soldier’, and it does three things.
First, it describes the primeval nature of the battlefield, using the indisputable evidence of history. Second, it describes the ethos of the Australian soldier. Finally, it enshrines the concept of the ‘soldier for life’: that purpose is an enduring part of our identity post uniformed service.
‘The Soldier’ is the ethic that unifies our profession, from newest recruit to the Chief of the Army. Every recruit will receive a copy in their first days in training.
You each have a copy of it on your chair today. I commend it to you. It is the expectation of the character of each of us as professional soldiers. It will, I hope, help us to understand our philosophy, and help us to carry the burdens of soldiering lightly.
The second challenge is that the foundations we are building are not strong enough yet to bear the full weight of our profession. We are expecting Australians to make the significant transition from citizen to soldier too quickly, and without sufficient investment.
We have acted without delay to remove arbitrary time restrictions on our ab initio training.
I have directed that these courses are to be as long as they need to be, in order to build the right foundations for a profession that is match-fit for war.
The recruit training course, for example, is now 13 weeks long, and will continue to extend in length and depth.
After an important trial, I have also directed that officer training at the Royal Military College, Duntroon is to extend by one third, commencing with from the next intake. This is neither a return to the past, nor a step backwards.
Rather, it is recognition that our junior leaders need a greater investment of time in the foundations of military command and leadership if they are to fulfil their obligation and their duty to their mission and to those whom they are privileged to lead.
The Land Combat College now has broad licence to use this time to reframe the curriculum, building the core traits of character and competence needed to lead Australian soldiers on today and tomorrow’s battlefields.
Experience tells us that true strength in junior leadership is best found in the partnership of officer and Non-Commissioned Officer. We will therefore support this investment at the Royal Military College by returning leadership to the centre of our NCO education and training continuum. This will strengthen the backbone of our Army.
The final foundational change is at the Australian Defence Force Academy. Around 40% of Australian Army officers spend three years around the Tree of Knowledge, a remarkable opportunity to establish their professional foundations. But till now they have not been able to invest this time specifically in the study of war, as a phenomenon in itself.
This will change in January next year, when ADFA will commence delivery of a Bachelor of War Studies: a three year degree that will study war’s nature and character in all its dimensions, and across its domains.
Approximately one third of the Army’s Trainee Officers commencing at ADFA in 2027 will undertake this course. By 2030 this will be more in the order of 70%. Elements of the war studies core curriculum will in due course be studied by all ab initio Army officers, both at ADFA and RMC, and will be available more broadly to our NCOs and our soldiers.
There is no greater investment in our profession than the study of war by our leaders. The better we understand both the nature and character of war, the better we will be at prosecuting its ends and ways to deter war in the first instance, to defeat our enemies, and to best fulfil our accountabilities and obligations to those we are privileged to lead.
Foundations duly strengthened, the next steps for our expertise are increasingly clear. We must now re-wire our professional body of knowledge, alongside every other facet of our Army, for ‘continual adaptation’.
War has always been a contest of adaptation, an action-reaction-counteraction cycle that has historically hinged on technology, and its relationship with concepts and application. The crossbow defeats plate armour. Heavy canon overcomes fortifications. The tank breaks the stalemate of trench warfare.
In war’s battle of wills, successful adaptation can only be judged relative to an enemy. The army that adapts fastest and most effectively gains an edge.
Today, however, the pace of change in the character of war is more rapid than it has been since at least the industrial revolution, if not ever in human history. Cycles of military adaptation are now measured in days or weeks, not months or years. Rapid adaptation is the price of entry in modern warfare. The alternate is defeat at the hands of an enemy, dead soldiers, and an imperilled mission.
It is also clear that truly autonomous warfare is now inevitable, and soon. Russia’s invasion of Ukraine shows how the exigencies and momentum of war will override the concerns of international ethics, law, and the illusion of control.
Machines that make autonomous decisions to apply violence – to kill – are coming, whether we like it or not. We will face them, even if we choose not to use them.
Our Army must be re-wired to adapt to this reality. We will need to be ready to tread the exceptionally-fine line between military expediency, adaptation, and our ethics. This may well test the judgment of our profession further than it has ever been tested before.
Upon reflection, I consider the need for ‘continual adaptation’ to be the most prominent and profound lesson of warfare – ancient or modern. The logical response is therefore to establish it as the central idea for our Army’s transformation.
Our expertise, and our professional body of knowledge, are part of the ‘wiring’ of our Army. They connect every aspect of our practice and culture. We are now in stride the work to re-wire them for continual adaptation, but there is more to be done. This is the catalyst of our transformation, as we strive to keep pace with the changing character of war, and to drive the tempo through our own innovation.
The final pillar of our profession, and perhaps the most challenging to address, is our capacity for self-regulation … that is our capacity to maintain professional standards in the face of the corrupting nature of war.
I noted last year that professional self-regulation, and in particular the matter of command accountability, has not thrived in our recent history. While there is much to be proud of in our service at home and abroad, and over the ages … our failures are as apparent as our successes.
Our review this past year has both confirmed and sharpened this proposition. There is an apparent trust deficit, evidenced at least in part by the fact that there are now no less than ten external bodies that regulate our professional judgement.
To identify the source of this trust deficit, we must start by looking in the mirror.
Our review has also sharpened our diagnosis on accountability, and specifically institutional accountability.
Accountability for the Army as an institution accrues to the Army’s strategic leaders … to me and to the Army’s Generals. This is where what I have described as the ‘long shadow’ of Afghanistan casts deepest. This is what we needed to address.
Having confirmed this diagnosis, the Generals and I have moved to resolve it.
Last month we finalised a written code of honour and conduct for Australian Army Generals. It is called the ‘Sword and Baton’. It codifies the Army’s professional expectations of those who accept the privilege of General Officer rank.
It makes clear that the decisions taken by Generals are by their very nature consequential, have an amplified effect, and demand a broader and ultimate acceptance of responsibility and accountability.
Should the institution fail systemically, I am ultimately accountable.
The ‘Sword and Baton’ makes clear how accountability is to be applied. It is as much a code of honour as it is a code of conduct, and it is explicit that – as General Officers – we must hold ourselves to account before the institution is required to do so.
Accountability has to be seen if it is to be effective. Service, and the interests of the Army and the nation, come before self. Always.
Accountability starts with acceptance: a conscious decision to acknowledge the weight of authority, and the possibility of consequence. Every General will now need to accept the code enshrined in the ‘Sword and Baton’ before they accept the insignia and sword of their appointment.
The Army’s professional expectations of its strategic leaders are now explicit, and unambiguous. While we cannot change the past, we can emerge from its long shadow through our actions today and tomorrow.
Together, the two publications of the ‘Soldier’ and the ‘Sword and Baton’ set the virtue ethic of the Army profession for every soldier from trainee to general. They bridge and they book-end our profession, anchoring it explicitly in the prosecution of our nation’s wars and in the fundamental nature of the battlefield. These arm us against war’s corrupting nature.
Dealing with the broader deficit in trust of the Army profession to self-regulate will require more time, continued dedication, and demonstration. Whatever the solution, our review is clear that success hinges on the concept and execution of ‘command’.
The idea of ‘command’, enshrined as it is in legislation and history, is distinct to the military. It defines the relationships between soldiers, NCOs and officers, underpinned by systems of law, authority and accountability that maintain good order and discipline in peace and in war.
‘Command’ is also central to the Army’s ideas of duty of care, of obligation, of compassion and of tenderness. Army commanders are expected to extend a duty of care for their soldiers that goes well-beyond the norms of our society. This duty counts whether our soldiers are in or out of uniform, in sickness or in health, and extends to the wellbeing of their families.
This is wholly appropriate, and we would not have it any other way. It is central to trust and our will to fight.
But in recent years we have increasingly separated commanders from the authorities and the resources that give them the agency and means to exercise this duty of care.
This, I believe, requires re-examination.
Commanders ought to be granted authorities commensurate with their accountabilities for those whom they lead. This is especially important where decisions impact a soldiers’ discipline or their future.
We are working together to ensure that a soldier experiencing health challenges, physical or mental, has access to care and can complete their recovery in their Regiment or Battalion, supported by their leaders and their mates.
I have directed our commanders to apply the timeliness and clarity of our discipline and justice systems, rather than the current preference for complex, administrative remedies.
By doing so, we are fostering a culture of timeliness, fairness, and indeed the opportunity for redemption.
Overall our review tells us that the chain of intimacy between soldiers and their commanders … and between commanders and the Army as an institution … is vital. True intimacy – like good politics – is always local, and thus our units are at the heart of this work.
It will be a longer path to address the broader deficit of trust in our Army to self-regulate … but address it we must, and we are. The health of ‘command’ – at all levels – sits at the centre of our fighting power as a national institution, as a profession, and indeed as a fighting force.
So, here ends this phase of the Army’s review of the state of our profession. I am deeply grateful to all those who have been involved for their intellectual rigour, their honesty and commitment: many of whom are here this evening. This work is vital to us as an institution, and indeed as a nation.
The final finding, however, is that such reviews cannot be episodic or conducted piecemeal. The effects of great power competition, and the pace of change in the character of war, demand constant attention to … and continuous adaptation in … the state of the Army profession. Our profession.
So, as this phase ends, the next begins. The final outcome of our review is the creation of a fourth line of operation in the Army’s campaign plan, entitled ‘The Army Profession, and the National Institution’.
This line of operation, led by the Army’s senior leaders and underpinned by clear accountabilities, will ensure that the Army profession gets the constant attention that our purpose demands, and that our people deserve.
It will assure a worthy inheritance for those of you in this room this evening, and those who follow, as you lead our Army into a challenging future.
God speed and good soldiering to you all.