Diversity is essential to our armed forces. Yet an overemphasis on statistics has taken us into dangerous waters in terms of management. The issue is much larger than numbers, but we have embraced a system in which percentages trump more meaningful and lasting considerations. Our present focus misses the forest for the trees.
Fortunately, there is good news. Our enlisted leaders have seamlessly fused operational realities with a diversity-friendly mentality, providing us an ideal model from which we have much to learn.
To keep my unit running, chiefs and petty officers judge their workforce and designate leaders based entirely on capability and contribution. Those who prove themselves experts in their respective shops become leaders. Those who fall behind are placed elsewhere. It is a meritocracy born of the needs of an operational unit. More important, the process is embraced and respected.
A comparison with the apparent management of our officer corps presents a much different picture. If we look at the promotion boards, a divergent mentality emerges. At the bottom of each list of officers selected for the next higher grade is a long detailed matrix of exact percentages of race, ethnicity, and gender selected. This breakdown is intended as proof of our diversity and that we value it as a service. Yet this emphasis says nothing of the capability and contribution that trumps all other considerations at the deckplate level. Understandably, we strive to demonstrate to the entire service that diversity is held in high regard, but such a blatant focus on numbers alone indicates an exclusive preoccupation with data and appearance.
A recent event captures the stark contrast between these two models in play. After we struck a bird on a training flight and aborted takeoff, my flight engineer took charge of the crew, delegated roles and responsibilities, inspected each engine, and completed the necessary administrative work to fly the aircraft home. Without missing a beat, the crew followed the engineer’s lead and fixed the aircraft. All of this is quite common in the C-130 except for the fact that my engineer was a woman—the first female flight engineer I had ever flown with and likely the first my crew had flown with as well. Having learned from the example of their shop leaders, the crew saw nothing out of the ordinary.
While the crew sweated their way through engine inspections on a sultry summer night, I stood in awe, watching them work seamlessly as a team. Statistics were the last thing on their minds. They judged one another solely by capability and by their contribution to the goal of returning the aircraft to flying status. Had I voiced my observation on diversity to them, in all likelihood they would have thought I was crazy.
Diversity in action was present that night in its most inspiring form. Whereas spreadsheets might be necessary to prove it, actual diversity was second nature for my crew. Moreover, they learned to perform this way not from detailed documentation extolling the value or presence of the concept, but rather from their shop supervisors and peers.
Our enlisted leadership has, perhaps unbeknownst to them, developed an ideal model for diversity. They have driven home the fact that there is no time for preconceived notions based on race, ethnicity, or gender. They work as a team because the mission demands it. Diversity quietly thrives as a result.
As officers, we often focus too much on the numbers. If they don’t add up, we scratch our heads. We mistakenly assume that quantifiable data will make us better. To keep ourselves honest we then publish that data to validate the theory. For decades, the military has worked tirelessly to improve its diversity. Unfortunately, some of our best intentions are at present misguided. We are, to repeat my earlier statement, focused entirely on the trees. It was a refreshing experience to rub my eyes that hot summer night and see before me a crew that saw the “forest” in its entirety.