By David Beaumont

Ten years ago, I wrote a short article on the Australian Army’s then ‘Land Power Forum’ arguing the case for an Army logistics narrative. This article was written in the wake of a shake-up of the Army’s logistics units, as part of much larger transformation to the Army’s overall structure. As such restructures tend to go, it was a short period that revealed a few fairly significant tensions in the way problems were either expressed, or dealt with, within Army’s logistics community.  

A contest of ideas was underway over military concepts, seemingly irreconcilable positions encountered, and rational arguments concerning which problems to resolve first given. Everything was both apposite and opposite at the same time.

Amid this structural review, and after reading one of the most important twentieth-century works about military logistics, I thought I had found what was missing. A narrative; a central idea; a purpose driven by professional ambitions and focussed on the future:

‘In prefacing his classic work on military logistics Pure Logistics, United States Marine Corps officer Colonel George C Thorpe declared that ‘the conclusion is irresistible that the military themselves know next to nothing about logistics’. As a marine infantryman teaching at the US Naval College in 1917, Thorpe had little professional compulsion or explicit need to write on logistics. However, personal experiences of American brush wars and observations made of the expeditionary war being fought on the European continent at the time gave him a reason to propose an approach to military logistics that he felt was lacking. He sought to develop a narrative that explained military logistics, in the context of reorganising military power, to define the way in which it would be considered in the future. Now, with the benefits of 20 years of continuous operations, it is time that the Australian Army does the same’

It seemed clear to me that without a story—without a shared understanding of purpose—logisticians risked becoming mere technicians, disconnected from the broader strategic imperatives that their work enabled, and dabbling in largely esoteric debates. Decisions were made on the basis categories of service, or which part of the Army you came from. The notion of narrative, I realised, was more than a rhetorical device; it was a binding force, a way to articulate why logistics mattered, not just how it functioned. Most importantly, a narrative would give others a sense that the professional community worked as a whole.

Of course, this was too small an idea. The Army, although a significant component, is only one element within a much larger, interconnected professional community of logisticians. This broader community encompasses not just the three military Services—Army, Navy, and Air Force—but also includes Defence civilians, other public servants, and a multitude of individuals and organisations external to Defence. These varied contributors each play vital, though often understated, roles in sustaining the forces that protect the Nation.

Despite some attempts to engender a discussion about the professionalisation of logisticians, as well as the narratives that bind the group together, the debate tended to focus on the triumvirate of ‘skills, knowledge and attributes’.  Some time ago this very site was involved in a discussion on what makes a ‘future logistician’. Though there also reasons that Defence logisticians to seek to improve their skills, training and education is only part of the solution to preparing not just individuals – but the broader logistics community – for the future.

Instead, narratives should be about change. In seeking to transform Defence logistics, and as I wrote in 2017:

‘There are opportunities that logistics leaders must exploit. The first is to set, and subsequently describe, a consistent vision. Narratives and vision statements serve several purposes in organisational transformation. Narratives link multiple activities by common themes and ideas, and set a path and a logic for action when the effort of an entire organisation is required. A future narrative should not be a theory of logistics, nor necessarily a concept. Instead it should be a practical and pragmatic description of the desired outcome and the process of transformation which will be undertaken; what must be done when, and by whom.’

Flash forward to this year, where the Australian Army ambitiously refocussed towards developing its own professional narratives, especially around the idea of ‘Army in society.’ These narratives helped to shore interest, engagement and renewed pride in establishing a sense of the uniqueness of Army as an institution.

Perhaps the debate for Defence logisticians is not about whether a narrative is now needed, but what shape this narrative should take in a Defence landscape that is more interconnected, more joint, and more reliant on whole-of-government and industry partnerships than ever before. It would be remiss of me not to proselytise about the idea of ‘national support’ as the core of a narrative, but there are many other ideas that the collective can seize upon to renew logistics transformation. Should the narrative be about professional skilling and technical mastery, operations in contested setting, or something completely different?

Whatever the case, Australia’s Defence logistics community – as the profession is colloquially known – is at a cross roads given the nature of the strategic challenges that Defence, as a whole, might face in the future. To craft a narrative fit for the future, logisticians must look both inward, to reflect on their values, history, and lessons learned, and outward, to anticipate the future challenges posed by evolving threats, emerging technologies, and the forever-changing character of conflict. In doing so new cases for change may be created, and opportunities that have the potential for realising a better prepared, and more able, professional logistics community.

What do you think?