In 2000, the United Nations Security Council adopted Resolution 1325 and established the Women, Peace and Security (WPS) agenda. This formally recognised not only the disproportionate impact of conflict on women and girls, but also the critical role women play in peacebuilding and recovery.

That same year, I began my deployment as a civilian peacekeeper at the forward operating base of Sirakatau in Bougainville—the closest team site to the Panguna mine, where tensions with the Bougainville Revolutionary Army remained high. I was the only woman, and the only civilian, in a patrol group of Australian, New Zealand, Fijian and Ni-Vanuatu military personnel. Living in an abandoned supermarket and needing airdrops for supplies, it was as remote and austere as deployments get.

During the decade-long Bougainville conflict, the destruction of hospitals and clinics, collapse of medical supply chains, water contamination from Panguna mine tailings, and mass displacement severely eroded access to maternal healthcare. Pregnant women were often forced to give birth without skilled assistance, increasing the risk of miscarriage, stillbirth and maternal mortality. These conditions highlighted the acute vulnerability of women and newborns during and after conflict and underscored the importance of safeguarding maternal health as a cornerstone of community survival and long-term peacebuilding.

A few weeks into the deployment, our patrol was called to assist a young woman experiencing labour complications in a nearby village. With no sealed roads or local transport, the villagers relied on us to take her to the nearest clinic. But by the time we arrived, it was too late. With only a young army medic (who was tragically killed in Afghanistan 11 years later), our patrol commander and remote guidance from doctors over the radio, we attempted a breech birth delivery. The medics and I performed an episiotomy and delivered the baby—tragically stillborn. As the only female and the closest in age to the mother, I tended to her wound on the way to the  local midwife.

I can only hope that, in some small way, my presence softened the trauma of such a vulnerable moment being managed by foreign male soldiers. But the experience reinforced a broader truth: women’s participation in peacekeeping is not just a matter of principle, but of necessity. It also underscored the indispensable role of humanitarian and health workers—those who should have been there in the first place—whose absence left a frontline patrol improvising maternal care.

That lesson resonates well beyond Bougainville. From Ukraine to Gaza, Haiti and Sudan, wars today are being waged on the very systems designed to protect civilians. Health workers, hospitals and ambulances are being targeted in horrifying numbers. According to the UN Population Fund, attacks against health facilities doubled between 2023 and 2024, with more than 900 health workers killed last year alone. Humanitarian aid workers were also killed in record numbers in 2024, and this grim figure is already being surpassed in 2025. Miscarriages, premature births and newborn deaths are rising sharply as health systems collapse.

Despite these realities, the WPS agenda has too often been interpreted narrowly, focusing on women in military or police roles. Female humanitarian aid workers, both local and international, remain largely invisible in WPS action plans, even though their work is indispensable to stabilisation. They mediate disputes, deliver essential services, build trust with communities and keep health systems alive under fire. They face the same risks as uniformed personnel—ambushes, violence, intimidation—without the same recognition, protection or voice in decision-making.

Australia knows this reality well. Since the late 1990s, we have been deeply involved in peacekeeping missions globally and regionally, from East Timor and Solomon Islands to Bougainville. On the ground, the WPS agenda felt less like a bold new idea and more like a belated recognition of what was already happening: women were the backbone of reconciliation and recovery. They were peacebuilders long before the UN had the words to describe them.

Twenty-five years on, the WPS agenda must evolve again. Conflict today is not confined to conventional wars. Climate shocks, pandemics, cyber disruption and displacement are destabilising communities and undermining security. Women are again on the frontlines—from Pacific disaster resilience efforts to humanitarian corridors in across the world.

For Australia, the opportunity is clear. With our history of peacekeeping and strong aid presence in the Indo-Pacific, we can lead by embedding WPS principles across defence, diplomacy and development. That means recognising that peacekeeping, peacebuilding and humanitarian responses are part of the same continuum. And it means ensuring that the women who sustain resilience in their communities— whether in uniform, in non-government organisations, or in aid agencies—are decision-makers, not just participants.

As we mark the 25th anniversary of Resolution 1325, it is time to broaden our lens. Maternal health and the role of female humanitarian workers are not peripheral issues; they are central to peace and security and to future generations.