Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth announced on Tuesday that he intends to initiate a careful review of the Defense Department’s standards, particularly those that have undergone alteration since the 1990s. This period, often remembered for its limited institutional backing for female service members, serves as a stark comparison to the present day, when women in uniform face higher physical expectations and benefit from more substantial institutional support. Hegseth’s inquiry is directed toward a fundamental question: whether the shifts in standards reflect genuine, mission-driven adaptation to modern combat realities, or whether they stem from what he views as a possible dilution of military rigor in an effort to accommodate other priorities, including gender considerations.
In framing the discussion, Hegseth emphasized that the decade of the 1990s provides a valuable benchmark. He challenged observers and subordinates alike to revisit the military’s expectations during that era and to analyze subsequent modifications—asking specifically whether such changes were an absolute necessity dictated by evolving battlefield conditions, or whether they were products of a “softening” in disciplinary standards ushered in by external pressures. What remained ambiguous, however, was whether his comments applied narrowly to physical fitness requirements—requirements that have gradually intensified for women since the 1990s—or whether he was alluding to a broader spectrum of policy reforms that have facilitated women’s fuller integration in military workplaces.
His remarks came closely on the heels of another significant development: the dissolution of a long-standing advisory body within the Pentagon, a committee that many female service members credit with strengthening the armed forces by championing opportunities that enabled women to not only serve alongside men but also maintain careers despite formidable challenges. This decision unsettled numerous women across the services. While many of them express no desire to see physical standards lowered, they harbor deep concern that renewed scrutiny of such standards may foreshadow a retreat from critical workplace protections—safeguards that, in their view, are unrelated to combat readiness yet essential for fair treatment and professional longevity.
Indeed, Hegseth has already mandated a reassessment of fundamental definitions concerning toxic leadership and harassment—policies that deeply shape the culture of the services. Most controversially, he recently terminated the Defense Advisory Committee on Women in the Services, universally recognized by its acronym DACOWITS. The Pentagon’s official communications channels justified this move by asserting that the committee promoted what they criticized as a divisive feminist agenda, allegedly antagonistic to combat effectiveness. In contrast, Hegseth stated his own intent was to pursue uniform, gender-neutral standards that apply evenly throughout the Department of Defense.
Yet many military women view this characterization as a misrepresentation with potentially dangerous consequences. They argue that DACOWITS provided invaluable institutional oversight, one that gave female troops a credible voice in shaping policies to improve their ability to thrive in uniform. Retired Marine Corps Lieutenant General Lori Reynolds, speaking with Business Insider, insisted that the committee was far from divisive; rather, she described DACOWITS as an essential conscience within the military system—examining crucial issues and instituting reforms to enhance the retention of women, who currently make up just under one-fifth of the total armed force. At a moment when the military faces both a recruiting shortfall and retention challenges, such efforts were seen by many as indispensable.
Retention, as Reynolds and others stressed, demands consistent attention to structural impediments that drive service members—especially women—away from military careers. Concrete examples include reforms allowing greater family stability through increased oversight of duty station assignments and expanded postpartum accommodations, both of which have equally benefited men by improving work-life balance for married service members. Throughout its history, beginning in the 1950s, DACOWITS contributed substantially to policy shifts that once seemed radical: opening naval vessels, cockpits, and weapons training to women. More recently, it dedicated its resources to identifying institutional disincentives that made continued service difficult for female troops and their families.
For individuals such as retired Navy Captain Laura Hatcher, the committee’s influence was profound and lifelong. Entering the Naval Academy in the early 1990s, Hatcher became a diver, served aboard ships, commanded men, and raised children while maintaining an active-duty career—all pathways that had been closed to women before DACOWITS’ advocacy. While Hatcher acknowledged the aspirational goal of a military where specialized committees are no longer necessary, she highlighted her fear that dismantling such structures prematurely could erase institutional memory and jeopardize hard-won gains. For her, digital archives of DACOWITS’ achievements are a vital repository of history in danger of fading from the collective record.
The practical contributions of DACOWITS extended even further, as highlighted by one former researcher who participated in the committee’s work and underscored the group’s ability to investigate technical and logistic challenges, such as the design of protective body armor that better accommodates the physiology of female service members. Neglecting such issues, they cautioned, could result in unnecessary injuries and diminished combat efficiency. Retired Marine Corps Captain Karen Holliday echoed these concerns, declaring her outrage at the committee’s closure. She stressed that initiatives advanced by DACOWITS—including expanded parental leave and child-care policy adjustments—were not exclusively beneficial to women but also measurably improved conditions for men in uniform.
Moreover, Hegseth’s broader pattern of eliminating initiatives perceived to specifically advance minority or female perspectives has drawn scrutiny. Efforts such as the Women, Peace, and Security Initiative, which centered on integrating gender considerations into strategic peacekeeping and conflict resolution, have also been wound down. Female service members, including those speaking anonymously, report that the shutdown of DACOWITS felt like another blow following the earlier prohibition on mentorship networks, such as the Joint Women’s Leadership Symposium, dismissed by senior leadership as unwarranted, “woke,” and divisive. For some, including a female Marine sergeant who publicly admitted her disillusionment, the loss weighed heavily enough to accelerate their decision to leave the military altogether.
Underlying these developments, according to Reynolds, is a worrisome signal being sent throughout the ranks: if the Department of Defense cannot muster the conviction to consider recommendations centered on the well-being of its own force, it casts doubt on the institution’s commitment to its people at the very moment when their service is most vital. For the women still in uniform, the shuttering of DACOWITS represents not just the withdrawal of a committee but the removal of a safeguard against erosion of equity and fairness, threatening to undo the cumulative progress painstakingly built over decades.
This case has become a key focal point in Business Insider’s ongoing coverage of military morale and organizational culture, reflecting deep-seated questions about how the armed forces will balance tradition, effectiveness, and evolving social expectations in the years ahead.
Sourse: https://www.businessinsider.com/military-women-fear-setbacks-as-hegseth-looks-back-to-1990s-2025-9
