Since entering the Coast Guard, I have chafed at the term “petty officer.” As a prior enlisted U.S. Army Air Cavalry member, I took pride when I was addressed as PFC or Specialist Moore, titles that eloquently included me in the fighting unit. So I was taken aback when commissioned into the Coast Guard that I now was to call an experienced enlisted Coast Guardsman by the title of petty officer.
The use of the title is a legacy of British class structure in which the ruling class provided the superior officers, while the lower class carried out the tasks associated with training and leading the crew in actually fighting the ship. The concept of birthright nobility and class distinction is abhorrent to most Americans and is inherently contrary to the democratic principles of American society. This insidious belittling of the very backbone of the Navy and Coast Guard needs to go away. Come on, Navy and Coast Guard: Get with the Army, Air Force, and Marine Corps, whose experienced enlisted service members have the much more palatable designator of “noncommissioned officers.” “Officer” means leader, and leaders they truly are, performing in roles of authority, responsibility, and professionalism—the very antithesis of the term “petty.”
Many will loudly tout the importance of tradition and claim that this rant is merely about semantics, but I disagree. Fortunately, our society has of late become much more sensitive to the impact of seemingly innocent words. We can all agree that position titles convey a great deal about what an organization truly values. Even flight attendants got the world to acknowledge their role as more than what was conveyed by “stewardess.” Since we recognize the vital role more seasoned enlisted personnel play in the mission excellence expected of the service, a proper professional designator is needed to capture that role and the respect for and reliance upon the “foremen” of the boat. We need to replace the blatantly pejorative term “petty officer” for our service members whose role is anything but “insignificant, trivial, inferior.”
Such a break with tradition mirrors the similarly disparaging historical treatment of minorities of color desiring to serve in the Navy and Coast Guard. It was tradition to confine these members to the galley and call them messman and later steward, a term reserved for the racially segregated rate. These positions were exclusively filled by African-American or Filipino personnel and treated as inferior to all other rates for decades. That the services moved beyond this racially denigrating title and mobility-restricted dead end, if long overdue, was clearly the right decision. Now is the time to remove the vestiges of the ruling class versus lower class moniker so we audibly acknowledge the importance of all members of the fighting team. As I experienced while serving in green, Sea Service members may then take pride in addressing and being addressed in a manner that is reflective of their contribution to the mission effectiveness of the unit.
Such a positive move can also harmonize across services the naming of enlisted ranks. While I would like to give proper deference to tradition, we can’t stand by when it serves to institutionalize the denigration of a group. We broke tradition with segregation and thrived for it. We included women and they have ably lived up to the expectations of an American service member, also in contradiction of tradition. We as leaders of the service need to be vigilant against all such circumstances where adherence to tradition can be viewed as a code word for privilege, as any connotation of privilege is against the espirit d’corps of the fighting unit and is contradictory to the ethos of America.
I propose that the chiefs of the Sea Services direct the personnel elements to adopt the term “noncommissioned officers” for ranks previously known as “petty officers.” “First class,” “second class,” and “third class” boatswain, aviation survivalman, yeoman etc., can stand alone without the putative “petty officer” to repetitively chip away at the members’ esteem and overtly convey a sense of lowly position. Similarly, the venerable titles of chief, senior chief, and master chief also proudly stand alone, and bristle with the sound of the trivializing handle “petty officer” slandering the bearer whose enormous experience, capability, and leadership is the backbone of the taut watch.