As warfare evolves, the perpetuation of traditional military masculinity could limit the effectiveness of combat forces. While progress has been made to include women in combat roles, narrow concepts of what it means to be a soldier continue to run deeply in some areas. The cultural exclusion of women (and men) who don’t fit into this box can supersede formal inclusion efforts. To pursue true inclusion, we must understand and interrogate these traditional gender ideals.

In the same year that the United Nations Security Council unanimously passed Resolution 1325 on Women, Peace and Security (WPS), the New Zealand government rescinded its policy that prohibited women from enlisting into combat roles of the New Zealand Defence Force (NZDF). There is no evidence to suggest that these two decisions, both made in 2000, were related. But 25 years on, it is time to consider how connecting them could further improve the participation of more women in combat roles.

When the combat exclusion policy was being debated, the NZDF defined combat as ‘the act of killing or capturing along with the associated risk of being killed or captured.’ Based on this definition, women were banned from sea service and aircrew positions. The Brigade Headquarters demarcated the danger zone for ground forces, and women were prohibited from trades operating forward of this line.

Before 2000, it was accepted that women’s military service should be confined to non-combat roles. Women were regarded as homemakers within New Zealand society, not life-takers. Indeed, uniformed women had not been taught basic military skills, such as firing a rifle, until the late 1970s. In 1990, the NZDF voiced concerns that society was not ready to see women being brought home in body bags, and the force held significant anxiety about the detrimental impact of women on combat effectiveness. Although it was readily accepted that men could and should endure the hardships of combat, the dominant viewpoint was that women could not and should not.

Importantly, restrictions were not only designed to keep women safe from being killed, but also to keep them from killing. Such societal resistance to women engaging in acts of violence underscores the gendered nature of war itself. However, by 2000, the NZDF had to concede that there was no valid reason for delineating combat zones. The reality of the modern battlefield was that no specific position offered protection from killing or being killed.

It is argued that Western countries have traditionally held militarised conceptions of citizenship, including beliefs that citizenship could be classified based on who is excluded from military service. Historically, this has included not only women, but also the disabled and, in some societies, ethnic and sexual minorities. In New Zealand, exclusion from combat once extended to the indigenous Māori population as well as members of the LGBTQ+ community.

Rescinding the combat exclusion policy was, therefore, a significant milestone for women’s rights in New Zealand. And although the NZDF had initially opposed the change, after 2000 it quickly recognised that diversity—in all its forms—enabled operational success. Fast-forward to 2020, and NZDF’s senior leadership is wanting to understand how to recruit even more women into combat roles.

However, while women’s participation in combat has challenged deeply entrenched norms, the gendered nature of the NZDF remains largely intact. We see the perpetuation of gendered divisions of labour that reflect socially accepted gender roles. The combat soldier in particular remains rooted in traditional ideals of masculinity. This is despite NZDF strategy documents calling for traits such as flexibility, agility of thought, negotiation skills and compassion—traits not typically associated with this image, and in fact more traditionally associated with perceived femininity.

Removing a policy that excluded half of New Zealand’s population from combat offered the NZDF a key for transformation, but evidence shows that the door has not yet been unlocked. To succeed within combat roles, women (and men) must fit within a very narrowly defined set of masculine norms. As a result, informal processes of exclusion continue to act in defiance of formal policy change.

Gendered ideals continue to constrain and diminish not only women’s participation in combat, but the participation of anyone who does not conform to a heterosexual and binary concept of male identity. In short, the ideal typification of the combat soldier has not evolved in concert with the evolution of society and warfare. Instead, emphasis remains on lethality and strength over empathy and thinking skills.

It is here that the intersection with UNSCR1325 becomes pivotal, as it brings to attention traditional understandings of masculinity and femininity. More specifically, it brings to attention how and where certain traits are expected to be performed—and by whom. The WPS agenda predominantly focuses on women and girls, and rightly so due to the disproportionate effects they face amid conflict and crisis. However, paying attention to men and the performance of masculinity is a critical piece of the exclusionary puzzle.

The idealised form of military masculinity holds its power not through force, but because it is accepted. This means that we can reimagine the combat soldier. Changes in warfare, such as the emergence of hybrid warfare, makes this reimagining even more important. Until we can make this change, the soldier best suited to perform in modern warfare contexts will remain stifled—if not excluded altogether—by a reliance on simplistic definitions of combat and outdated understandings of gender.