In 1980, I spent time at the US Air Force Academy double-timing at attention on the terrazzo strip. Worrying about my gig line and shirt tuck and sweating in the Colorado sun.
I read that West Point decided with the new Trump Administration it was time to kill their “minor in Diversity and Inclusion Studies”.
Few people actually understand what goes on at the nation’s service academies. They exist to train career officers in our military. Professor Craig Pirrong was like me. He attended the Naval Academy in Annapolis but didn’t finish either. He understands academy life, and has written about it.
Here (Toughen Them Up or Shut Them Down)
Here (Race-Based Admissions)
I remember the 2008 election. A lot of my friends bought into the “McCain is dumb” trope in the media because he graduated at the bottom of his class. When I explained how the academies do class rank and what the typical cadet day was like they didn’t think McCain was so dumb anymore. Academy life isn’t like civilian college life in the least.
When I read that West Point had a Diversity and Inclusion Studies minor, I wondered why the hell they would do that and what point does it even have in an institution that has a stated mission of training career officers.
It is simply indoctrination. I have read that you don’t even have to choose to take a class to get exposed to indoctrination. I am glad that Pete Hegseth is going to rid the military of all that bullshit that has nothing to do with defending the country.
Here is a true story.
As a first-year cadet (Doolie at USAFA, Plebe at the others) you learn how to eat. I am sure learning how to eat has changed since my time there. We sat at attention, a fist distance away from the table. When we ate, we had to square the corner as we lifted a small bite of food off the plate and into our mouths. The plate had an eagle at the top of it, and it was at 12 o’clock. You placed your two drink glasses by the eagle so the eagle bisected the two glasses.
There were a billion other rules and eating was another time when upper-class cadets could harass the new freshman.
One of the rules was when the upper-class cadet at the head of the table would speak, everyone would stop eating and listen. At lunch one day, the upper-class cadet at my table (Cadet Captain Basic was his name) asked what everyone received on their SAT exam.
We went around the table and it happened that I was last in line. You heard scores of 1500, 1400, 1300. Amazing scores. I had an 1100.
“What’s everyone majoring in here?”
Again, around the table we went. Mechanical engineering, astro-engineering, aerospace engineering, and civil engineering. Cadet Basic looked at me and I said, “Business.” He responded, “You do realize there is no business major at this academy.”
Could you imagine if I said “Diversity and Inclusion”? Saying business was bad enough. His next question was if I was a recruited athlete and I said I was a basketball player. He said I’d fit right in since they had the lowest GPA of any athletic team on campus.
I am certain Cadet Basic would have taken it upon himself to see that my training would become much more diverse and inclusive. What a heavy burden he would have had to assume.
He would have included me in scenic runs around the Academy. Perhaps I might have cared to be included in more push-up drills. Perhaps we could test the diversity of the different pull-up bars on campus. Maybe I could have been included in reciting quotes out of Contrails? With all the DEI bullshit I can only imagine the quotes that are included in Contrails/Reef Points/Bugle Notes now. Maybe the finer points of spit shining? Maybe figuring out how to include a mop and do some diverse latrine cleaning. There would have been no end to the diversity and inclusion of my training.
Great post. Thanks for the mentions.
I can guarantee that a firstie would not have asked about SAT scores in the DEI era, precisely because it would have revealed inconvenient truths about DEI.
While I did not go to a service academy I did go thru OCS in Fort Benning in the summer of 1980. I remember many a fond weekend, standing at attention for a uniform inspection, hoping they would get to me before the sun melted the shine on the toe of my combat boots, earning me walking tours across the parking lot of bedroom 4, better known as the Infantry School Building. Ah, what fine memories.