Healing Through Self: How Overcoming Trauma Requires Self-Regulation and Mindful Practice

Trauma is not merely a moment in time but an experience that rewires the way the brain and body respond to the world. Whether it arises from childhood neglect, physical abuse, emotional betrayal, or the loss of a loved one, trauma leaves a residue that often distorts how individuals see themselves, others, and the future. Overcoming trauma is rarely a passive experience; it demands active engagement with one’s inner world. The path toward healing is not linear, and it cannot rely solely on external solutions. Rather, it is a deeply personal journey, requiring individuals to work on themselves through intentional self-regulation, self-awareness, and the consistent practice of healthy, mindful activities. These approaches help re-establish a sense of safety, foster resilience, and ultimately cultivate inner peace. It is crucial to understand what trauma does to the human mind and body. Traumatic experiences, especially those that are chronic or occur in early development, can disrupt a person’s sense of control and stability. According to the American Psychological Association, trauma can result in lasting adverse effects on the individual’s functioning and mental, physical, social, emotional, or spiritual well-being. Neuroscientific research, particularly the work of Dr. Bessel van der Kolk, author of The Body Keeps the Score, demonstrates how trauma can lead to hypervigilance, emotional numbing, disassociation, and difficulties in forming trusting relationships. The brain’s fear centre, the amygdala, can become overactive, while the prefrontal cortex, responsible for decision-making and emotional regulation, may be underactivated in trauma survivors. These neurological changes mean that trauma recovery is not just about "thinking positive" or "moving on." It involves recalibrating the body and mind to re-establish safety, trust, and emotional regulation. This is where self-work becomes essential. Self-regulation refers to the ability to manage one’s emotions, thoughts, and behaviours in different situations, especially stressful or triggering ones. For trauma survivors, this ability is often compromised. They may swing between emotional numbness and overwhelming emotional flooding. Self-regulation, then, becomes both a goal and a method of healing. One of the most crucial elements of recovery is relearning how to feel emotions without being overwhelmed by them. Trauma can teach the brain that emotions are dangerous. For instance, someone who grew up in an abusive home may associate anger or sadness with punishment or abandonment. As a result, they may suppress these emotions or experience them in exaggerated ways. Through therapeutic techniques like cognitive-behavioral therapy (CBT), dialectical behavior therapy (DBT), and somatic experiencing, individuals can begin to build a new relationship with their emotional experiences. Grounding techniques are powerful self-regulation tools that help trauma survivors stay present. Many traumatic symptoms, such as flashbacks or disassociation, involve being mentally removed from the present moment. Grounding techniques like deep breathing, 5-4-3-2-1 sensory exercises, and physical movement anchor the individual back into the here and now. One of the most damaging effects of trauma is the destruction of internal safety. Survivors may constantly feel threatened, even when nothing external is wrong. Cultivating self-regulation skills restores the feeling that one is in control of their own body and mind. This sense of control is essential for any further healing to take place. Working on oneself requires a courageous, ongoing process of self-exploration. For trauma survivors, this can feel daunting, but it is also one of the most empowering aspects of recovery. The above notwithstanding, there is an important distinction between blame and responsibility. Many survivors, especially of childhood trauma, carry misplaced blame for what happened to them. Part of self-work involves releasing this blame while taking responsibility for one’s healing. No one chooses trauma, but everyone has the capacity to choose how they respond to its aftermath. This shift in mindset is empowering and transformative. Self-work also involves identifying and understanding patterns that developed as survival strategies but no longer serve the individual. For example, people-pleasing, emotional withdrawal, or perfectionism might have helped avoid conflict or gain approval in traumatic environments but now interfere with healthy relationships but by adopting daily wellness practices such as journaling, therapy, or self-reflection, individuals can trace these patterns back to their origins and consciously choose different behaviours. By learning how to recognise triggers, (the things that cause emotional reactivity) also allow individuals to prepare for and manage them rather than being blindsided. Trauma often results in a harsh inner critic. Survivors may internalise messages of worthlessness or shame. Self-work involves replacing this voice with one of compassion and support. Practices like inner child work, affirmations, or compassionate self-inquiry help rebuild the inner narrative in a way that supports healing rather than hindering it. Mindfulness, the practice of paying nonjudgmental attention to the present moment, is a cornerstone of trauma recovery. Unlike some therapeutic methods that focus on analysing the past, mindfulness anchors the individual in the now, teaching them that this moment is safe and livable. Chronic trauma can dysregulate the nervous system, keeping individuals in a prolonged fight, flight, or freeze state. Mindfulness practices, especially those that involve breath awareness and body scans, activate the parasympathetic nervous system, the body’s natural “rest and digest” response. Research from institutions like Harvard Medical School has shown that regular mindfulness meditation can reduce symptoms of PTSD and anxiety, improve emotion regulation, and increase self-awareness. Yoga, especially trauma-informed yoga, is a powerful practice that combines mindfulness with physical movement and for trauma survivors who feel disconnected from their bodies, yoga can be a gentle way to reclaim bodily autonomy and cultivate inner awareness. The emphasis on breath and intentional movement fosters a sense of control and self-trust. Mindful activities are not limited to meditation and yoga. Art, music, dance, and creative writing can all serve as mindful outlets. These practices provide non-verbal ways to process emotions and experiences that are difficult to articulate. Creative expression becomes a mirror to the soul, allowing repressed feelings to surface safely. Spending time in nature is a deeply healing, mindful experience. The natural world doesn’t judge, demand, or rush and for trauma survivors, being in nature can soothe the nervous system and offer perspective. Mindful walking, forest bathing, or simply sitting under a tree can reconnect individuals to the rhythms of life beyond their internal chaos. Healing is not a singular event but a daily commitment to practices that support growth, peace, and resilience. Trauma often brings chaos, so establishing a daily routine creates predictability and safety. This might include a morning ritual, designated time for exercise or meditation, regular meals, and consistent sleep patterns. Similarly, learning to say no and protect one’s energy is a critical part of self-work. Trauma survivors may have weak boundaries due to past violations so setting boundaries is not about pushing others away, but about honoring one's needs. While healing is an internal journey, support from others is invaluable, whether through therapy, mutual support groups, or close friends, being seen and heard is a powerful antidote to the isolation that trauma often causes. Healing can be slow, and it's easy to overlook how far one has come so it is essential to regularly acknowle small victories, such as responding to a trigger with calm, setting a boundary, or showing oneself compassion, all reinforce positive change. It’s natural to have setbacks in the healing journey and the goal is not perfection but progress so when old patterns resurface, it's an opportunity for learning, not self crticism or punishment. Trauma survivors often avoid emotions because they feel dangerous. However, feeling is necessary for healing so gradual exposure to emotions, guided by a professional if needed, helps build tolerance and emotional literacy. However, healing does not mean becoming someone else, it means integrating painful experiences into the larger story of who you are, and learning to live fully in spite of, or even because of, those experiences. Overcoming trauma is an act of profound courage. It requires more than time, it requires intentional work, deep honesty, and compassionate persistence. Self-regulation helps restore a sense of inner safety and control. Self-work fosters self-awareness, responsibility, and the unlearning of harmful patterns. Mindful practices ground individuals in the present and provide nurturing spaces to rebuild the mind-body connection. Together, these approaches form a powerful triad that supports long-term healing and transformation. Trauma may shape us, but it does not have to define us. So, by turning inward, learning to listen to the body and the heart, and being committed to daily practices that honor our humanity, we become not just survivors but self-empowered individuals capable of growth, connection, and peace. Healing is not the erasure of the past, but the reclaiming of one’s power to live fully in the present.

Tony Wright CEO Forward Assist

Overlooked and Underserved: The MoD’s Failure to Recognise Universal Rehabilitation Needs Among UK Armed Forces Veterans

Each year, thousands of men and women leave the UK Armed Forces and begin the complex journey back into civilian life. While the Ministry of Defence (MoD) has implemented various programmes aimed at supporting injured service personnel, particularly those with physical wounds or PTSD, it continues to fall short in recognising that all veterans, regardless of visible injury or mental health diagnoses, undergo profound transformations that warrant structured rehabilitation. I would argue that the MoD’s current approach is too narrow, failing to appreciate the psychological, emotional, social, and cultural reconditioning required for all former service members to reintegrate effectively. In doing so, the MoD inadvertently neglects a significant portion of the veteran population, leaving them isolated, disoriented, and underserved. Serving in the Armed Forces fundamentally changes a person. From day one, recruits are trained to conform to a strict, hierarchical system. Their identity is reshaped by discipline, camaraderie, collective responsibility, and high-stakes decision-making. The longer one serves, the more deeply ingrained these attributes become. Upon discharge, veterans often find that civilian life no longer fits the worldview they have adopted in service. Compounding this, the civilian world itself may have changed during a veteran's time away. Former friends and loved ones have moved on, social norms have evolved, and institutions (such as the job market) now expect a very different set of skills and behaviours. In essence, the transition is not simply a return, it is a radical re-entry into a society that may feel foreign. This cultural and identity dissonance is experienced by virtually all who have served, not just those who have suffered physical or psychological trauma. Yet, the MoD’s framework continues to treat only the physically or mentally "wounded" as in need of adjustment support. The MoD's rehabilitation services have historically prioritised those with visible injuries or diagnosed mental health conditions, especially PTSD. This emphasis stems from a post-Afghanistan and Iraq era narrative in which public awareness was raised about the severe consequences of combat exposure. While this was a necessary and commendable shift, it also created a binary system of support: those who are visibly or diagnostically "injured" receive rehabilitation and resources, while those who are not are often presumed to be fine. This binary fails to recognise "sub-clinical" suffering, emotional numbness, identity loss, difficulty adapting to unstructured environments, lack of purpose, that may not meet diagnostic criteria but significantly impair a veteran’s quality of life. It also ignores the systemic effects of military conditioning: the need to suppress emotion, hyper-vigilance, dependency on routine, and black-and-white thinking. These traits, adaptive in a military context, often hinder successful reintegration in the civilian sphere. Military life instils a profound sense of identity rooted in purpose, community, and routine. Discharge from service often results in what psychologists call identity dislocation—the loss of a previously stable sense of self. Many veterans find that they no longer know who they are outside of uniform. The military was not just a job; it was a life. And when that life ends, the absence can be both psychologically destabilising and existentially painful. This identity crisis does not manifest as a mental illness per se, but it can lead to depression, substance abuse, domestic issues, and in some tragic cases, suicide. Yet because it does not present as a diagnosable condition, the MoD’s traditional rehabilitation pathways offer little support. The lack of recognition for these “invisible wounds” for example, but not exclusively, Military Sexual Trauma suggests a fundamental misunderstanding of the veteran experience.One of the most challenging aspects of reintegration is finding meaningful civilian employment. Veterans often face difficulties translating military skills into civilian qualifications. Employers may not understand the value of military leadership, resilience, or problem-solving under pressure. This disconnect contributes to higher-than-average unemployment and underemployment rates among veterans, particularly within the first five years of discharge. While some MoD programmes such as the Career Transition Partnership (CTP) offer support, many veterans report that such services are generic, underfunded, or poorly tailored to the diversity of military backgrounds. Moreover, these programmes often assume a level of civilian “readiness” that simply does not exist in many transitioning personnel. True rehabilitation must include vocational reorientation, life skills training and wellness practices, identity reconstruction, and long-term mentoring, not just CV writing workshops. Another critical yet overlooked aspect of rehabilitation is the strain on personal relationships. Returning veterans often feel emotionally distant from family and friends. They may struggle to express vulnerability, relate to everyday concerns, or cope with the perceived triviality of civilian life. This emotional gap can erode marriages, fracture parental bonds, and deepen isolation. Unfortunately, the MoD does not systematically offer family-centred reintegration programmes. Spouses and children, though deeply affected, are rarely included in the transition process. This omission neglects a vital support network and places an unfair burden on families to manage the consequences of service without adequate tools or guidance. Rehabilitation also requires cultural translation. Military culture emphasises obedience, sacrifice, and group identity, while civilian society increasingly values individualism, emotional transparency, and ambiguity. Veterans may find civilian institutions to be inefficient, disloyal, or morally ambiguous, traits that clash with the clear mission-oriented ethos of the military. This culture shock is rarely acknowledged in MoD programming. By not preparing service members for this divergence, the MoD essentially sets them adrift in a foreign land without a map. The result is frustration, disillusionment, and alienation, which can contribute to homelessness, incarceration, or chronic underachievement. Current MoD approaches largely follow a “fix the broken” model, whereby resources are allocated to those who show visible signs of damage, however this model fails to see the bigger picture. Rehabilitation should not only be reactive but also preventative and universal. Every veteran has undergone a significant transformation, and every veteran deserves the opportunity to rebuild a fulfilling civilian identity. A more humane and effective model would treat rehabilitation as a normal and necessary phase of the military lifecycle, just like basic training or deployment preparation. Doing so would destigmatise the need for support, promote early intervention, and better prepare service personnel for life after service. Other nations offer instructive models. In the United States, the Department of Veterans Affairs provides a wide range of post-service resources, from vocational rehabilitation to educational funding, social reintegration programmes, and peer support networks, while not without its flaws, the U.S. system acknowledges that all veterans face challenges. In Scandinavia, particularly Norway and Denmark, a more holistic and family-inclusive model of veteran care has emerged, which supports the idea that transition is a systemic, rather than individual, process. These models show that it is possible to design policy frameworks that view rehabilitation as an integral part of service, not an exception granted to the injured. The failure of the MoD to recognise the universal rehabilitation needs of all veterans is not just a bureaucratic oversight, it is a moral failing. Focusing narrowly on those with physical wounds or diagnosed PTSD, the MoD disregards the broader and deeply personal consequences of military service as every person who has worn the uniform has sacrificed, changed, and adapted in profound ways. We must also prepare them for what comes after. If the UK truly values its Armed Forces, then it must commit to a new model of veteran care, one that sees rehabilitation not as a privilege for the wounded, but as a right for all. Only then can we begin to honour the full measure of their service.

Tony Wright CEO Forward Assist

Some Combat Veterans Are Bitter… With Good Reason.

In Britain today, the term "combat veteran" still carries an aura of honour, sacrifice, and discipline. Yet beneath the public ceremonies, commemorative poppies, and respectful nods lies a much more troubling reality. Many of the UK's combat veterans are angry, disillusioned, and profoundly bitter. And they have every right to be.This bitterness is not born from personal failure or a lack of gratitude. It is a rational response to systemic betrayal, by politics, by big business, by society, and by a culture that venerates military service in theory but neglects those who serve in practice. Serving in the armed forces, particularly in combat roles, is unlike any other job. It requires the total surrender of individual autonomy. Troops are trained not just in how to fight, but in how to obey, how to suppress personal feelings, how to kill. In the British Armed Forces, the focus is on discipline, cohesion, and mission. Yet, when the mission ends and the uniform comes off, that discipline and cohesion often give way to chaos and isolation. Veterans are thrust into a civilian world that doesn’t understand them, doesn’t value their experience, and often sees them as damaged or dangerous. What civilian job teaches you how to survive an ambush in Helmand Province? What employer knows how to interpret a service record that includes multiple deployments but no formal qualifications? The transition is jarring. One minute, you're leading men through a firefight; the next, you're navigating Universal Credit applications. The skills that were once praised and indispensable are suddenly irrelevant. Military indoctrination is not a side-effect of training; it is the goal. Recruits are broken down and rebuilt into soldiers who can operate in the most extreme conditions imaginable. This is necessary for survival in combat. However, that same indoctrination also creates a mindset that can be disastrously incompatible with civilian life. Service personnel are taught to prioritise the mission above all else. Emotions are suppressed. Aggression is channelled. The military teaches hyper-vigilance, distrust, and a relentless drive for results. These traits, while essential in a war zone, become liabilities in everyday civilian interactions. Many veterans report feelings of restlessness, purposelessness, and alienation. Relationships break down. Patience wears thin. The sense of belonging they once had is gone, replaced by a society that neither understands nor values the depth of their transformation. British veterans are often used as political pawns. Politicians queue up to praise them on Armed Forces Day, yet the same politicians preside over budget cuts to the NHS mental health services they depend on. Successive governments have promised to "do more" for veterans while outsourcing key services to private contractors and hollowing out the very institutions that once supported service personnel. Afghanistan and Iraq remain painful examples. Many veterans feel betrayed not just by the outcomes of those conflicts, but by the political motives behind them. The infamous dossier on weapons of mass destruction, the shifting goals in Afghanistan, the lack of clear exit strategies, all contribute to a deep sense of cynicism. Veterans fought and watched friends die for causes that were later revealed to be riddled with misinformation or outright lies. Northern Ireland is a case in point. The withdrawal from Afghanistan in 2021 was a particularly bitter moment. Veterans watched, horrified, as the Taliban swept back into power in mere weeks. It felt like a betrayal of everything they had sacrificed. The silence from the government during this period was deafening.Adding salt to the wound is the undeniable fact that war makes some people very rich. Defence contractors, private security firms, logistics providers, these corporations made billions during the conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan. Meanwhile, those doing the fighting often returned home to broken bodies, broken minds, and broken promises. Combat veterans are not naive. They know that defence contracts are awarded not based on merit but on connections. They see former generals move effortlessly into high-paying consultancy roles while rank-and-file soldiers are left to struggle. This stark inequality fuels resentment. Veterans know they were the muscle behind someone else’s profit margin. One of the most persistent lies told to service members is that their military experience will translate seamlessly into civilian employment. It rarely does. The truth is, most employers have no idea how to read a military CV. Leadership under fire, logistics coordination in combat zones, and technical skills developed in the field are often misunderstood or overlooked entirely. A Sergeant with years of leadership experience may find themselves applying for entry-level jobs. A combat medic might be told their skills don't count toward NHS qualification requirements. There is also the problem of stigma. Some employers fear hiring veterans, worried about PTSD or aggression. Others see former-military candidates as too rigid or institutionalised. The result is a large population of highly trained, highly disciplined individuals unable to find meaningful work.The issue of mental health among veterans is well-documented but poorly addressed. The mad bad and sad narrative persists but is it true? For others PTSD, depression, anxiety, and substance abuse are common. Yet the support structures are woefully inadequate. Veterans report long waiting lists for therapy and a lack of understanding from civilian mental health professionals. The MOD's own services are underfunded and overstretched. Charities attempt to fill the gap, but they are often under-resourced and cannot meet the scale of demand.The end result? Homelessness, addiction, suicide. According to recent studies, veterans are overrepresented in all these statistics. Yet the public narrative rarely shifts from shallow hero-worship to substantive support.There is a profound disconnect between the military and the society it serves. Most civilians have never served, never had a family member serve, and have no concept of what it means to live a life defined by war. This ignorance breeds misunderstanding. When veterans try to express their frustrations, they are often met with platitudes or deflected by claims of national pride. "Thank you for your service" common in America but not so much in the UK rings hollow when followed by a refusal to hire, a lack of funding to retrain or go back to futher education and/or University, or policies that prioritise optics over outcomes. The British public often sees veterans through two lenses: either as brave heroes or as broken men and women. There is little space for complexity, for understanding the contradictions of pride and pain, of strength and vulnerability. Veterans are often reluctant to speak out. The military teaches you to get on with it, to suffer in silence, to never show weakness. This culture persists long after discharge.As a result, many veterans bottle up their feelings, unwilling or unable to articulate the depth of their bitterness. Some fear being judged. Others have simply lost faith that anyone is listening. The reality is the silence must end. Veterans must be allowed to voice their discontent without being dismissed as ungrateful or mentally unstable. Their experiences are valid. Their anger is earned. The first step is recognition. Not just of service, but of sacrifice—not just on the battlefield, but in the years that follow. Government policy must go beyond ceremonial praise and offer concrete, consistent support. Perhaps most importantly, society needs to listen. To really listen. Veterans are not relics of a bygone war machine; they are living, breathing people with voices that matter. In summary, many combat veterans in the UK are bitter and they have every reason to be. They were sent to fight wars that many now question. They returned to a society that fails to understand them, a job market that doesn't value them, and a political class that pays lip service to their sacrifice while quietly dismantling the institutions meant to support them. Their anger is not the problem. It is a symptom of deeper failures, failures that must be addressed if we are to be a society worthy of their service. Until then, the bitterness will remain. And it will be justified.

Tony Wright CEO Forward assist

The Healing Power of the Spoken Word: How Storytelling, Poetry, and Creative Expression Can Help UK Military Veterans Heal

For many UK military veterans, the return to civilian life after deployment can be as psychologically grueling as the combat they’ve faced. The mental scars of warfare, post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), moral injury, survivor’s guilt, anxiety, and depression, can linger long after the battlefield falls silent. Added to this is the deep loneliness and social isolation that often accompanies a disconnection from the military community and difficulties integrating into civilian society. Traditional treatment methods like therapy, medication, and support groups are valuable, but they don't work for everyone. Increasingly, a powerful complement to these approaches is gaining ground: the spoken word. Whether through storytelling, poetry, creative writing, or lived experience narratives shared aloud in front of an audience, the spoken word offers a deeply human, emotionally resonant tool for healing. Trauma, especially combat trauma, is a complex and often invisible wound. PTSD, anxiety, depression, and emotional numbness are common responses to witnessing or participating in violence. For many veterans, especially men, expressing vulnerability is culturally discouraged, both in military settings and society at large. As a result, many carry their trauma in silence. This silence is compounded by the transition to civilian life. The camaraderie and structure of military service are replaced by uncertainty, loneliness, and the sense of being misunderstood. Veterans often report feeling alienated, invisible, or judged, experiences that can deepen their psychological wounds and contribute to self-isolation.Breaking this silence is critical and this is where the spoken word, a tool as old as humanity itself, comes into play. The spoken word is more than just speech. It’s expression with intention, emotion, and authenticity. Through poetry, storytelling, or sharing a lived experience, speaking aloud can give form to pain, create meaning out of chaos, and foster human connection. One of the central wounds of trauma is the shattering of narrative. Traumatic events often resist integration into a coherent story, leaving individuals stuck in cycles of intrusive memories, shame, or emotional disconnection. Storytelling helps veterans rebuild a sense of identity by reclaiming control over their experiences, so when veterans share their stories publicly, whether in a community centre, a spoken word event, or a veterans’ storytelling circle,t hey are not just recounting events. They are choosing what to emphasise, how to frame their journeys, and how to find meaning in their suffering. This process is empowering and helps participants feel seen and heard. It also fosters empathy in listeners, breaking down societal stereotypes of veterans as either broken or heroic. Poetry distills emotion into language and for veterans, writing and speaking poetry allows for the articulation of feelings that might otherwise remain buried; grief, anger, love, confusion, guilt. Through metaphor, rhythm, and imagery, poetry can externalise inner pain and transform it into something beautiful, powerful, and shareable. Public readings of poetry allow veterans to voice these emotions in safe, supportive spaces. The act of reading aloud validates their pain while inviting others into their emotional world. Importantly, poetry doesn’t require a linear narrative, which is particularly helpful for those whose trauma resists chronology or coherence. Poetry can provide a way to “speak the unspeakable,” and in doing so facilitate catharsis and clarity. Creative writing, short stories, memoirs and/or fiction can offer a more expansive canvas. It allows veterans to explore themes of identity, loss, resilience, and hope, sometimes through invented characters or imagined worlds. Writing fiction can provide emotional distance, helping veterans approach painful memories obliquely while still processing them. Spoken word performances of this writing give voice to these creations. Sharing these pieces in front of an audience, whether live or virtual, transforms private reflection into communal experience. It breaks isolation by reminding veterans they are not alone in their struggles. Equally important as speaking is being heard. The presence of an attentive, empathetic audience transforms spoken word performance into a reciprocal act. Performing can be simultaneously terrifying and liberating, yet the act of being witnessed, truly seen and heard,can restore a sense of human connection and dignity. Similarly, audience members also undergo transformation. They come to see veterans not as statistics or stereotypes but as fully human individuals. This mutual recognition fosters a sense of belonging, validation, and community. One of the most insidious effects of trauma is disconnection. Veterans may lose contact with military friends, feel misunderstood by civilians, or withdraw due to shame or numbness. Spoken word events create community through shared vulnerability and artistic expression. Peer-led initiatives, especially those built by veterans for veterans, are especially effective. They offer a safe space where participants understand the language, humour and pain of military life. These communities are often more accessible than formal therapy and can serve as stepping stones toward deeper healing. Veterans are not a homogenous group so not all veterans have the same experience. Women, LGBTQ+ and BAME veterans may experience compounded isolation. Spoken word projects offer a uniquely inclusive medium where diverse voices can be amplified and validated. Intersectional mutual support groups help individuals claim space, assert their humanity, and challenge dominant narratives. While spoken word projects offer immense promise, they also carry risks. Reliving trauma aloud can trigger both speakers and audience members alike, if not done in a supportive environment. Facilitation of such projects by trained professionals, access to mental health resources, and consent-based storytelling are crucial elements of any trauma informed spoken word projects. Moreover, not every veteran will be ready or willing to speak, alternatives like writing for private reflection, peer-to-peer conversations, or visual arts may be more appropriate for some. The power of the spoken word lies not just in the telling, but in the transformation it enables, for the speaker, the listener, and the wider community. For UK military veterans grappling with the aftermath of war, speaking aloud through poetry, storytelling, and creative writing can be a profoundly healing act, simply because it restores agency, affirms humanity, and builds bridges where there were once walls. In a world where veterans too often suffer in silence, the stage can become a place of truth, courage, and connection.

Tony Wright CEO Forward Assist

"Military Sexual Trauma" Increases Suicide Risk Among Survivors.

Military Sexual Trauma (MST) is a term used widely in the United States and increasingly in global discourse to encapsulate experiences of sexual assault and harassment during military service. The UK, however, has remained resistant to adopting this terminology, particularly within the Ministry of Defence (MoD) and broader governmental frameworks. This refusal is not merely semantic; it represents a deeper institutional reluctance to acknowledge and address the unique psychological, social, and structural harms that accompany sexual violence within the military. I would argue how this resistance significantly increases the risk of suicide ideation and completion among survivors of in-service sexual violence. Furthermore, it critically examines why the UK military establishment may be one of the last major institutions in the country to meaningfully recognise and support victims and survivors of sexual assault and rape. Language frames experience so when institutions fail to name a phenomenon, they often fail to understand or address it. The term "Military Sexual Trauma" provides a specific, validated category of harm that acknowledges both the context and impact of sexual violence within the armed forces. By declining to adopt this term, the UK Government and MoD deny survivors a recognised identity, a pathway to tailored care, and a sense of communal validation. This absence can exacerbate feelings of isolation, betrayal, and hopelessness, all known risk factors for suicidal ideation and behaviour. Survivors of sexual violence often experience a range of mental health issues, including post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), depression, anxiety, and complex trauma. These are frequently compounded in military settings by factors such as chain-of-command dynamics, institutional denial, and the culture of stoicism. When the institution refuses to name or acknowledge the specific nature of their trauma, it deepens the psychological wound. Research from the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs demonstrates that MST survivors have significantly higher rates of suicidal ideation than other veteran populations so without a similar recognition framework in the UK, survivors are left to navigate these complexities without targeted support. The UK military has historically maintained a hierarchical, masculinist, and often insular culture that prioritises discipline, loyalty, and resilience. While these values are integral to military cohesion, they can also function to silence or marginalise individuals who challenge institutional norms, particularly those who report sexual misconduct. The refusal to adopt the term MST reflects a broader culture of denial and minimisation. Survivors frequently report retaliation, career damage, and social ostracisation after disclosing sexual violence. In such an environment, the absence of institutional recognition serves to reinforce a culture of silence. If a survivor cannot name their experience within an accepted framework, they are less likely to come forward, access support, or pursue justice. This isolation contributes to feelings of entrapment and despair, further elevating suicide risk. While civilian institutions in the UK have made strides in recognising and addressing sexual violence, including through trauma-informed care and survivor advocacy, the military remains notably behind. Survivors within the armed forces face additional layers of complexity, including chain-of-command reporting structures, lack of confidentiality, and fear of career repercussions. The failure to adopt MST as a recognised term and framework results in a dearth of specialised support services tailored to military-specific experiences. Without a formal recognition of MST, the UK MoD lacks a structured system for identifying, treating, and supporting survivors. This institutional gap means that survivors often fall through the cracks, receiving generalised or inappropriate care. The disconnect between military health services and civilian mental health frameworks further complicates this issue. For those already grappling with trauma, the lack of a clear, supportive pathway to care can lead to deteriorating mental health and increased suicide risk. The U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs has adopted MST as a clinical and legal category, allowing for dedicated treatment programmes, research funding, and legislative advocacy. While far from perfect, this recognition has led to the development of targeted interventions that have demonstrably improved outcomes for survivors. The contrast with the UK highlights the cost of inaction. Survivors in the UK face similar, if not more severe, challenges without the benefit of systemic recognition or support. Studies in the U.S. context show that MST specific care leads to better engagement with mental health services, reduced symptoms of PTSD and depression, and decreased suicide ideation. This demonstrates the tangible benefits of naming and addressing the problem. The UK’s refusal to follow suit not only denies these benefits to its service members but also signals a troubling disregard for their wellbeing. The reluctance to adopt MST terminology is symptomatic of broader resistance to institutional accountability. Admitting to the prevalence and impact of military sexual trauma would necessitate a reckoning with past and ongoing failures. This could expose the MoD to legal liability, reputational damage, and internal upheaval. In many ways, the institution may perceive these risks as outweighing the benefits of change,despite the human cost. There is also a legal dimension to the MoD's resistance. Recognition of MST could open the door to claims of negligence, duty of care violations, and breaches of human rights obligations. Politically, there may be concerns about undermining public confidence in the armed forces. However, these fears must be weighed against the moral imperative to protect and support those who serve. Behind every statistic is a person, a service member who joined the armed forces with a sense of duty and was met with violence, betrayal, and neglect. The refusal to recognise MST is not a neutral stance; it is an act of institutional abandonment. It signals to survivors that their pain is unacknowledged, their service is undervalued, and their lives are expendable. The tragic outcome of this message is visible in the suicide statistics that continue to plague military communities. Survivors have consistently called for greater recognition, justice, and support. Many recount being disbelieved, blamed, or punished for reporting their assaults. Some have lost careers, relationships, and hope. Their testimonies are a powerful indictment of a system that prioritises institutional preservation over individual wellbeing. Listening to these voices is not just a moral imperative, it is a crucial step toward reform. See: https://www.forward-assist.com/forward-assist-research-1 The UK Government and MoD must confront the reality of military sexual trauma. This begins with the adoption of the term MST as a formal category within military health and legal frameworks. Once this happens the military may be able to begin to rebuild trust with survivors and reduce the preventable loss of life due to suicide. The refusal of the UK Government and Ministry of Defence to adopt the term "Military Sexual Trauma" is more than a linguistic oversight, it is a systemic failure that endangers lives and by denying survivors recognition, support, and justice, the institution exacerbates the very conditions that lead to suicide ideation and completion. It is time for the UK to join the international community in acknowledging MST, supporting survivors, and committing to meaningful reform. The cost of continued silence is too high.

Tony Wright CEO Forward Assist

Reconnecting After the Uniform: Helping Veterans Improve Relationships With Significant Others

Leaving military service is a significant transition for veterans and their families. While the move from active duty to civilian life brings new freedoms, it also introduces challenges, especially in personal relationships. Many veterans face difficulties reconnecting with their spouses or partners after deployment or service, and both sides may struggle to adjust to new dynamics. Military life demands intense physical, mental, and emotional commitment. Veterans are trained to be self-reliant, mission-focused, and emotionally reserved. While these qualities serve well on the battlefield, they can complicate intimate relationships. Many veterans struggle to express emotions or open up about their experiences. After years of suppressing feelings to cope with trauma or high-stress environments, vulnerability can feel unsafe or unnatural. Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), Military Sexual Trauma (MST) depression, anxiety, and survivor’s guilt can create communication barriers, lead to emotional outbursts, or cause withdrawal from loved ones. While deployed, partners at home often take on new roles and responsibilities. When veterans return, both parties may clash as they try to redefine roles and routines. The military offers a clear hierarchy and purpose. Civilian life, by contrast, can feel chaotic. Veterans often experience a loss of identity and purpose, which can affect their behaviour in relationships.Reconnecting doesn’t happen overnight, but with consistent effort, empathy, and openness, veterans can rebuild intimacy and trust with their significant others. Its important that everyone recognises that adjusting from military to civilian life is a process, for both the veteran and their partner.Effective communication is foundational to healthy relationships. Veterans may need to relearn how to share feelings and listen with empathy.Unaddressed mental health issues can derail a relationship. Veterans should consider therapy, counseling, or support groups to process their experiences and improve emotional regulation. If time apart, emotional absence, or difficult behaviours have eroded trust, its important that both parties work actively to rebuild it. Healing and adjustment take time. Some days will be harder than others. Practice forgiveness, not just toward your partner, but toward yourself as well.Supporting a veteran in their transition requires patience, empathy, and a willingness to adapt. Understanding what your partner went through will help you respond with compassion rather than frustration. Veterans may fear judgment or rejection when sharing their experiences. Reassure them that your love is not conditional on them being “strong” all the time. Many veterans are fiercely independent. Respect that, but gently encourage participation in family life and decisions. Supporting a veteran can be emotionally taxing. Make sure you’re also getting the support you need, whether that’s through therapy, support groups, or trusted friends. For many couples, seeking help together can be a turning point. Couples counseling offers a neutral space to improve communication, resolve conflict, and rebuild intimacy. Even with best intentions, couples face recurring challenges. Many veterans may seem emotionally flat. This is often a survival mechanism that can be unlearned. Practising mindfulness can help. Trauma, medications, or emotional disconnect can impact sex. It’s a sensitive topic, but ignoring it won’t help. Open up the conversation without shame or blame. Consider seeing a sex therapist or counselor who understands trauma-informed care.Veterans may withdraw from social settings, making the partner feel lonely or burdened. It might be helpful to connect with other veteran couples who understand the shared experience. After you leave the military it’s time to serve your own emotional well-being. Love and connection are not signs of weakness, they are fundamental human needs. Seeking support, opening up, and investing in your relationship is a courageous act.Remember you are not alone, and you are not broken. Loving someone through a military transition is hard. Feelings of frustration, sadness, and exhaustion are valid. Yet, commitment and compassion can make a profound difference. The goal after military service isn’t to “fix” a relationship or “go back to how things were.” It’s to rebuild something new, stronger, wiser, and more deeply connected. With patience, open hearts, and the right tools, veterans and their partners can grow not just as a couple, but as individuals. Reconnection is possible. Healing is possible. And love, resilient, enduring love, can absolutely thrive after service.

Tony Wright CEO Forward Assist

"Betrayed by the Crown: How the UK Government Abandoned Nuclear Test Veterans, Northern Ireland Veterans and MST Survivors"

For a nation that prides itself on “supporting our troops,” the UK has a damning record of failing the very people who risked everything in service to the Crown. Beyond the pageantry of Remembrance Day and the solemnity of war memorials lies a darker, more insidious truth: thousands of veterans have been neglected, disbelieved, and ultimately betrayed by the state they once served with honour. This betrayal is not limited to history books. It lives in the bodies of nuclear test veterans poisoned by their own country’s experiments. It shadows the lives of Northern Ireland veterans hounded through the courts decades after their service and it haunts survivors of military sexual trauma who are denied justice, specialised care, and even basic recognition. The Scandal of the Nuclear Test Veterans is a case in point. Between 1952 and 1967, over 20,000 British servicemen were exposed to nuclear radiation during the UK’s atomic tests in Australia, the Pacific, and at home. These young men, many barely out of school, were sent to the epicentre of Britain's Cold War ambitions, to observe, participate in, and “clean up” after nuclear detonations with little to no protection. Today, many suffer from cancers, infertility, and rare genetic disorders passed on to their children and grandchildren. Despite mounting evidence, the UK government has persistently refused to accept legal liability or offer proper compensation. Those who were stationed at Christmas Island during Operation Grapple, recall standing in nothing but shorts while a nuclear bomb exploded just miles away. “We were told to turn our backs and cover our eyes with our hands, that was our ‘protection.” The long-term effects were catastrophic. Studies have shown abnormally high rates of leukaemia, multiple myeloma, and birth defects among test veterans and their descendants. In stark contrast, their counterparts in the U.S., France, and Australia have received recognition and financial support. Multiple legal challenges have been dismissed on technicalities such as statutes of limitations or “insufficient proof”, despite government records being classified or conveniently “lost.” In 2012, the Supreme Court blocked veterans from suing the Ministry of Defence (MoD), arguing that too much time had passed. Justice, for many, died before they did. Similarly, between 1969 and 1998, thousands of British troops served in Northern Ireland during the Troubles, a brutal, sectarian conflict in which soldiers were targeted by paramilitaries, often while navigating a complex political minefield. Now, many of these same veterans are being dragged back into the courts decades later, some in their 70s and 80s, for alleged offences committed in the fog of war. While former IRA members benefit from immunity deals, British veterans are being criminalised. Regardless of one's view on ‘The Troubles’, the fact remains: successive governments promised protections for Northern Ireland veterans. Those promises have been broken. Beyond legal witch hunts, many Northern Ireland veterans suffer from untreated PTSD. Unlike their counterparts from Iraq or Afghanistan, they were never offered the same level of aftercare. Many were quietly discharged and left to suffer in silence. While the plights of nuclear test and Northern Ireland veterans are now gaining some visibility, one scandal remains largely in the shadows, military sexual trauma (MST) a term the MoD still does not officially recognise,despite its devastating, gendered impact on both female and male service personnel and veterans. MST refers to sexual harassment, assault, or rape experienced by military personnel while serving. This includes assaults by colleagues, superiors, or even during training. Unlike civilian survivors, MST victims are often forced to live and work alongside their abusers. The command structure makes reporting difficult, retaliation common, and justice nearly impossible.Testimonies from survivors are chilling.

Read: A Dark Shadow: Shining A Light on Sexual Assault and Suicidal Ideation Within The Military Community. https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5829ccde2e69cf19589499ac/t/67da736fafee3b4bbb195030/1742369649121/Main+Report+A+Dark+Shadow+-+Final.pdf

Military members of intersectional communities, including male survivors face an additional layer of stigma, often met with disbelief or mockery. Many suffer in silence, their trauma buried under shame and fear of professional ruin. Unlike the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs, which offers MST-specific treatment and acknowledges its impact, the UK has no official framework to deal with it. Survivors are left to navigate civilian services ill-equipped to handle the unique challenges of military sexual trauma. Compensation is rare. Legal accountability is rarer still. Many argue that “the complaints system is not fit for purpose,” with many victims reporting that they were actively discouraged from filing complaints, of those that do, most never see their case fully investigated. Prosecutions are almost non-existent and yet, the MoD insists there is “zero tolerance.”

While the experiences of nuclear test veterans, Northern Ireland veterans and MST survivors may differ in detail, they are united by a common thread of institutional denial. Whether it’s radiation exposure, battlefield stress, or sexual violence, the initial response is almost always denial or minimisation. Obstructions prevail, from legal time bars to missing records and a opaque complaints system. The MoD appears more interested in protecting itself than its people. Veterans and survivors are forced to fight for every scrap of recognition. Sadly, many simply give up take their own lives or die waiting. The UK government could do so much more than offer apologies because tangible, structural change is long overdue. Britain loves to commemorate its wars. We are a nation steeped in military nostalgia. Yet, remembrance without justice is in my opinion hypocrisy. The truth is that thousands of veterans and survivors are still in battle, not against foreign enemies, but against their own government. They are fighting for recognition, justice and dignity. Its time for change and accountability.

Tony Wright CEO Forward Assist

Military Sexual Trauma Survivors from Intersectional Groups Are Disadvantaged When Seeking Support.

Intersectional groups serving in the UK Armed Forces, such as women, Black, Asian, and Minority Ethnic (BAME) personnel, LGBTQ+ individuals, and those with disabilities face systemic disadvantages when seeking victim support and specialist sexual trauma therapy. Military Sexual Trauma (MST) encompasses experiences of sexual harassment and assault during military service. While MST can affect any service member, those belonging to intersectional groups often face compounded challenges due to overlapping identities and systemic inequalities.Women constitute a minority in the UK military, making up approximately 11% of personnel. Studies indicate that around 1 in 3 women veterans report experiencing MST, with higher rates of PTSD, anxiety, and depression compared to their male counterparts. BAME service members often face unique challenges, including racism, cultural stigmas, and language barriers, which can hinder access to support services. These factors contribute to underreporting and inadequate care for sexual trauma. LGBTQ+ personnel are at increased risk of sexual violence and often encounter discrimination within the military. Fear of being outed, lack of inclusive services, and previous policies like the "Gay Ban" have historically marginalised these individuals. The hierarchical structure and hypermasculine culture of the military can discourage reporting of sexual misconduct. Victims often fear retaliation, damage to their careers, or being ostracised by peers. Many survivors experience institutional betrayal when their reports are mishandled or dismissed. This can lead to a loss of trust in the system and exacerbate trauma. Some victims are misdiagnosed with personality disorders, leading to medical discharge and loss of benefits. This not only stigmatises survivors but also denies them access to necessary support. Support services often lack cultural competence, making it difficult for BAME and LGBTQ+ individuals to receive appropriate care. This includes a lack of understanding of specific cultural or identity-related needs. There is a scarcity of specialised sexual trauma therapies tailored to the unique experiences of intersectional groups. This gap in services can hinder recovery and reintegration into civilian life . Organisations like Forward Assist provide specialised support for survivors of MST, offering trauma-informed therapy and advocacy for systemic change. In summary, intersectional groups in the UK Armed Forces face systemic disadvantages in accessing victim support and specialised sexual trauma therapy. Addressing these challenges requires comprehensive policy reforms, increased cultural competency, and the expansion of inclusive support services.

Tony Wright CEO Forward Assist

From Civilian to Soldier...and Back Again: The Dual Journey of Identity and Reintegration

The transformation from civilian to soldier is one of the most structured and deliberate transitions a person can undertake. Through rigorous training, discipline, and an ingrained sense of duty, ordinary individuals are reshaped into instruments of national defence. Professional soldiers prepared to face some of the harshest conditions imaginable. However, what receives far less attention is the reverse journey: the return to civilian life once the uniform is hung up. For many veterans, this transition is far more difficult, fraught with emotional, psychological, and societal challenges. The journey from civilian to soldier is one of construction; the return to civilian life often involves deconstruction and reconstruction. The path to becoming a soldier usually begins with enlistment, either voluntary or through conscription, depending on the country. From the moment a civilian steps onto the grounds of basic training, their world begins to shift. Civilian clothes are replaced with uniforms. Individualism gives way to teamwork. Personal freedoms become secondary to discipline and chain of command. Basic Training is designed not just to teach physical skills, but to instill a new mindset. Recruits are taught to obey orders without hesitation, trust their fellow soldiers with their lives, and internalise values such as loyalty, duty, respect, and selfless service. This psychological conditioning is essential to function effectively in combat zones, where hesitation or individual judgment can have lethal consequences. As civilians become soldiers, they enter a unique social structure. Bonds are forged in the crucible of shared hardship, whether during training or in the field. These relationships often become more profound than familial ties. There’s a saying among veterans: “You fight for the man next to you.” This sense of unity and belonging provides emotional strength during service, but it also deepens the sense of loss when soldiers leave that life behind. For many, military service becomes more than just a job, it becomes an identity. The military offers a structured environment where expectations are clear, achievements are recognised, and roles are defined. In a world where many civilians struggle to find purpose, the military offers a compelling alternative: a clear mission, a community, and the pride of service. The experience of combat, deployments, and living under constant readiness fosters resilience and adaptability hardwires individuals to respond to stimuli, danger, routine, stress, in ways that are not easily turned off when returning to civilian life. When military service ends, whether after a few years or an entire career, soldiers face the daunting task of reintegration. Many describe an initial sense of disorientation. The civilian world seems chaotic, unstructured, and often indifferent to the experiences of those returning from service. Former soldiers may struggle to relate to peers who have not shared similar challenges. Suddenly, the habits that once ensured survival and success, hyper-vigilance, emotional suppression, automatic obedience can become liabilities. Everyday interactions may seem trivial or absurd. For example, navigating corporate hierarchies or casual social settings can feel alien to someone used to the clear command structures and life-or-death stakes of military operations. Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), anxiety, depression, and survivor guilt are common among veterans. The military does much to prepare individuals for combat, but few are prepared for the emotional aftermath. The weight of lost comrades, moral injury (conflict between personal values and wartime actions), and accumulated stress can manifest in deeply personal ways. Despite increasing awareness, there is still stigma around mental health, especially among former service members who have been trained to “suck it up” and “drive on.” As a result, many suffer in silence, reluctant to seek help. Finding meaningful employment is another significant challenge. While military experience can develop leadership, discipline, and technical skills, these are not always understood or valued by civilian employers. Job interviews often prioritise degrees over deployments, and veterans may find it difficult to translate their experience into terms that resonate in the corporate world. In some cases, veterans turn to jobs that lack purpose or stimulation compared to their time in the military. This disconnect can lead to frustration, underemployment, or even job-hopping in search of something that feels meaningful. Veterans often find solace and strength in veteran communities and support networks. Organisations led by or for veterans can offer a sense of belonging, mentorship, and a bridge to civilian life. These groups provide spaces where experiences are understood and shared, reducing the sense of isolation. Community engagement, volunteering, and advocacy work are also powerful ways for veterans to rediscover a sense of purpose. By helping others, they can channel their military-honed leadership and service mindset into civilian causes. Therapy, counseling, and group sessions play a crucial role in the healing process. Evidence-based treatments such as cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) and eye movement desensitisation and reprocessing (EMDR) have shown success in treating PTSD and other service-related mental health conditions. Importantly, healing is not just about erasing the past but integrating it. Veterans must often learn to accept their experiences as part of who they are, without allowing those experiences to define their future.Family life can both support and strain a veteran’s return. Spouses, children, and extended family may struggle to understand the psychological changes their loved one has undergone. Likewise, veterans may find it difficult to reinsert themselves into family dynamics that have evolved in their absence. Rebuilding these relationships takes time, communication, and often professional support. When successful, family can become a cornerstone of the veteran’s new civilian identity.The fundamental irony is this: the very traits that make someone a successful soldier, resilience, detachment, aggression, discipline, can make them struggle as civilians. Conversely, traits valued in civilian life, empathy, spontaneity, vulnerability, can be dangerous in combat. Bridging these two worlds is not merely a matter of logistics but of identity. Some veterans describe feeling as though they are living between two worlds, not fully at home in either. This duality, once a soldier, now a civilian, always both, can be difficult to reconcile. Yet, it is possible to construct a new identity that honours military service without being bound by it.The journey from civilian to soldier is one of profound transformation, requiring sacrifice, discipline, and courage. But the return journey, back to civilian life, is equally challenging, often overlooked, and no less heroic. It demands self-reflection, healing, and reinvention. Society owes it to its veterans not only to honour their service but to support their transition with empathy, understanding, and tangible resources. Reintegration programmes, mental health services, employment assistance, and community outreach can make the difference between a successful return and a prolonged struggle. Ultimately, the goal is not to return veterans to who they were before service, that may be impossible. Rather, it is to help them become someone new: a civilian who carries the lessons, scars, and strength of military life forward into a world that needs what they have to offer.

Tony Wright CEO Forward Assist

The Importance of Taking Time Off Work!

As a UK military charity founder, it's counter intuitive but absolutely essential that you prioritise taking time off, whether that's Bank Holidays, annual leave, weekends, or important family days, not just for your personal wellbeing, but for the long-term sustainability and success of your mission. Running a charity that supports the Armed Forces community can be emotionally intense. You're often dealing with stories of trauma, hardship, and loss. Without adequate rest, you risk burnout, compassion fatigue, and decision fatigue, all of which diminish your ability to lead effectively. Regular time off acts as a mental reset, helping you return with a clearer mind and renewed purpose.The demands of leadership often mean long hours and high stress. Over time, this can take a serious toll on your physical health, contributing to issues like high blood pressure, weakened immunity, and sleep disturbances. Prioritising rest days, holidays, and weekends helps your body recover, boosts your immune system, and improves energy levels, so you can show up fully for your team and beneficiaries. Strategic thinking and innovation thrive when your brain has the space to wander and reflect. Time away from daily operational pressures encourages creative problem-solving and fresh perspectives. Some of the best ideas often come during a walk with family, on a quiet weekend morning, or while reflecting on a beach holiday. Your team and volunteers will look to you as a role model. If you’re constantly working and never taking time off, it sends a message that overworking is the norm. Prioritising time off demonstrates healthy leadership, encourages balance in your team, and helps retain committed, resilient people. Your family and close personal relationships are your emotional anchor. Celebrating key milestones and showing up for loved ones builds resilience and keeps you grounded in what truly matters. These moments help remind you why you started the charity in the first place, often reigniting your passion and drive. Prioritising rest is not a luxury, it's a leadership responsibility. It enables you to lead with clarity, compassion, and creativity, ensuring your charity thrives and continues making a meaningful impact on the lives of those who’ve served.

Tony Wright CEO

Breaking Minds

It’s not the battlefield that breaks most soldiers. Not the physical toll, not even the trauma of combat though those scars are real and deep. For many serving in the UK military, the true damage begins much closer to home, behind the barracks’ walls, whispered between ranks, or scrawled anonymously on digital message boards. It begins with a cruel joke that isn’t funny, a ritual that strips dignity under the guise of "tradition," or a barrage of cyberbullying that isolates someone already trying to adapt. These are not isolated incidents; they are systemic. And the real tragedy? The institutions meant to protect and rehabilitate our service members including the Office for Veterans’ Affairs (OVA) often fail to even acknowledge the psychological carnage. When most people think about the psychological toll of military service, they picture combat stress, PTSD from active duty, or the difficulty of reintegration into civilian life. But a darker, often-overlooked reality haunts many veterans: the persistent, corrosive effect of bullying, humiliation, and hyper-sexualised initiation rituals. Across regiments and units, an unspoken code governs newcomers. “Earn your place” becomes a euphemism for degradation. Recruits are often subjected to deeply invasive rituals sometimes involving nudity, coerced drinking, sexual humiliation, or mockery framed as “banter.” In elite circles, these acts are even more normalised part of a toxic rites-of-passage mythology. The language is coded. “It’s just a bit of fun.” “Man up.” “It was done to me.” These phrases serve as both justification and silencer. Victims are discouraged from speaking up, lest they risk being ostracised or labelled as weak the kiss of death in a hyper-masculinised environment. Yet psychological research is crystal clear: prolonged exposure to demeaning treatment, especially in high-pressure, hierarchical systems like the military, leaves deep emotional wounds. Bullying is not character-building, it’s character-dismantling. In the 21st century, bullying doesn’t stop when a recruit leaves the barracks. WhatsApp groups, military forums, and anonymous chat apps have become digital arenas for psychological warfare. Leaked group messages from serving members have revealed casual racism, misogyny, and targeted harassment of individuals who don’t “fit in.” The military’s attempt to crack down on digital misconduct has been lacklustre at best. Training on online etiquette is superficial. Investigations are rare. And when consequences do arise, they tend to punish surface-level behavior rather than root causes. Moreover, there is no cohesive policy linking digital bullying to long-term mental health impact. The prevailing attitude remains that online harassment is “less serious” as though trauma stops being trauma when it travels through fibre-optic cables. Initiation rituals are often justified as morale-building or team-bonding exercises. Yet, psychologists have long warned of the long-term effects of such practices. Coerced humiliation triggers the same stress responses as traditional trauma: cortisol spikes, sleep disruption, hypervigilance, dissociation. Victims often experience shame, depression, anxiety, and intrusive memories. In many cases, this leads to Complex PTSD (C-PTSD) a form of trauma rooted not in singular catastrophic events but in sustained emotional abuse, often perpetrated by people in positions of trust or authority and because C-PTSD doesn’t stem from combat, it’s often misdiagnosed or entirely missed by military and veteran facing support organisations and psychologists. This is where the Office for Veterans’ Affairs could step in as the guardians of post-service wellbeing by recognising the nuanced invisible wounds caused by toxic internal cultures. The Office for Veterans’ Affairs, established in 2019 to “champion veterans and their families,” has achieved marginal wins in housing and employment but when it comes to psychological trauma not linked to combat, their response has been tepid and largely symbolic. Worse still, when veterans do come forward with stories of abuse, they often encounter a Kafkaesque system of buck-passing, lack of documentation, and outright disbelief. One of the most insidious aspects of this problem is how it sustains itself generationally. A corporal humiliated as a private might go on to humiliate others under the justification of “toughening them up.” Thus, trauma is passed down like a grotesque inheritance. This phenomenon known in psychology as transmitted institutional trauma ensures that the same systems that cause harm also perpetuate it and because the military is a closed culture, self-reinforcing and resistant to external scrutiny, reform becomes a herculean task. Empathy, understanding, and emotional intelligence are too often painted as antithetical to the military ethos. The stereotype of the stoic, hardened soldier still dominates public perception and internal recruitment materials but that image is a mask, and under it, many are quietly falling apart. The real strength lies in creating environments where vulnerability is not punished but protected. Where soldiers are not just expected to survive brutality, but supported in their humanity. Instead, the institution often chooses the opposite: glorifying silence, punishing whistleblowers, and marginalising those who express trauma that doesn’t fit the “heroic narrative.” When these service members return to civilian life thats if they don’t discharge early due to stress they’re often left to navigate their trauma alone. Many will never get the help they need. Some will turn to substance abuse. Others will struggle to maintain relationships, jobs, or even stable housing and tragically, a disturbing number will end their lives. Suicide among UK veterans remains a pressing issue, yet we rarely hear the stories of those who took their own lives not because of enemy fire, but because they were emotionally battered by the very institutions meant to protect them. The sad reality is that until the OVA and MoD expand their definitions of trauma, they will continue to miss thousands of silent casualties. The UK military has long prepared its members for the horrors of war. But it has done far too little to protect them from the horrors within its own ranks. Bullying, online harassment, and sexualised initiation cermonies are not relics of the past but are real time present-day, active threats to mental health. Sadly, sometimes, the deepest wounds are inflicted by those who swore to have your back.

Tony Wright CEO Forward Assist.

Alone After Service: Addressing the Crisis of Isolation Among UK Veterans with Musculoskeletal Mobility Issues

In the quiet margins of British society, where service medals gather dust and boots long retired sit beneath windows that seldom see visitors, there exists a crisis too often overlooked. The story is not just one of war wounds or fractured bones it’s of fractured lives. In the UK today, many military veterans living with life-impacting musculoskeletal (MSK) mobility problems are facing a deep and compounding loneliness, one that spirals dangerously into depression, vulnerability, and even suicidal ideation. This is not merely about the inability to walk unaided or the chronic pain of aged injuries. It’s about being unable to stand in line at the shops, being trapped indoors while comrades gather at community halls, and silently reliving traumas behind closed curtains,while the world moves on. Let’s bring this issue into the national consciousness where it belongs. Because these are the men and women who once stood for us. It’s time we stand for them. Musculoskeletal disorders are the most common cause of disability in the UK, and among veterans, they’re particularly prevalent. Years of physical strain, battlefield injuries, parachute jumps, and long marches have left indelible marks on the bodies of many service personnel. For those who’ve served, these aren’t just injuries, they're a permanent signature of sacrifice.But the implications stretch far beyond physical discomfort. When mobility declines, so too does access: to community, to identity, and to support. Imagine a veteran who once led troops through treacherous terrain now hesitating to descend the steps of his own front door. Fear of falling becomes not just a physical fear, but a symbol of the fall from independence, purpose, and social connection. In cities and rural areas alike, the infrastructure simply isn’t sufficient. Pavements are uneven, transport inaccessible, support groups too far.Veterans with mobility issues often cannot reach the very community hubs designed to help them. And if you can’t reach your support system, do you really have one? Social exclusion is more than just isolation, it’s the experience of being actively or passively pushed to the edges of society. For veterans with MSK conditions, exclusion often begins subtly: missing a few meetings due to pain, skipping social events due to inaccessible venues, or declining invitations because they don’t want to feel like a burden. Over time, this becomes a pattern. Friendships fade. Connections with former comrades, once the bedrock of post-service support, start to wither. Without regular social interaction, confidence erodes. The outside world becomes hostile, uncertain, even dangerous. It’s particularly tragic because military identity is inherently collective. From basic training to the battlefield, camaraderie is everything. To lose that after service, especially due to something as cruel and mundane as joint deterioration,is to lose a part of oneself. Veterans are at a higher risk of mental health challenges than the general population. When MSK mobility issues are layered on top, the risk grows exponentially. Depression doesn't always arrive with a scream, it often comes silently, a slow and steady erasure of hope. Many veterans experience profound vulnerability, not just physical but psychological. The fear of falling, not being able to protect oneself or significant others is common in those with mobility limitations. Disability becomes a metaphor for other fears, such as, falling into irrelevance, into helplessness, into oblivion. This fear breeds hypervigilance a hallmark of PTSD, which can become exacerbated by environmental stressors like isolation and chronic pain. The veteran who once faced bullets now faces stairs and community based interactions with the same adrenaline-fueled dread. Yet society often mistakes physical disability for a merely logistical issue, “Can they walk forty yards? Do they have a stairlift?” What is missed is the soul-deep loneliness that comes from no longer being able to engage fully in the world. Contrary to popular belief, PTSD isn’t always immediate. It can emerge decades after service, often triggered by retirement, bereavement, or the sudden lack of distraction that aging brings. For veterans immobilised by MSK conditions, the reduced physical movement often correlates with increased psychological turmoil. Sadly, a body that cannot move cannot flee from memory. Immobilised veterans report heightened flashbacks, more vivid nightmares, and a suffocating sense of being trapped by their past, their pain, and their present. The psychological impact of these experiences is profound, and too often untreated. When PTSD comes late in life, many veterans no longer qualify for the same level of mental health support available to their younger counterparts. They are labelled as “civilian cases” by overstretched NHS services that struggle to link the trauma with their long-past service. Veteran-centric support groups are lifelines. But what happens when those lifelines are physically unreachable? Many veteran specific community groups operate from town halls, churches, or social clubs that are not adequately accessible. Public transport remains patchy, especially in rural areas. Taxis are expensive. Relying on family can be humiliating, especially for those who once prided themselves on self-reliance. Not surprisingly, attendance drops. group leaders mark their absences with concern, but life moves on. That veteran, the one who used to bring stories and laughter to the room, is now a name on an old attendance sheet, forgotten, but still alive, alone. The paradox is painful: the more someone needs community, the less able they are to access it. Of all the consequences, the darkest and most final is suicidal ideation. The veteran community already faces disproportionate rates of suicide, and the link between physical disability, chronic pain, and suicidal thoughts is well-documented.When a veteran reaches the point of believing they are a burden, when the pain outpaces the pills, and the world feels smaller than their front room, suicide can seem, tragically, like the only escape.These aren’t isolated tragedies. They are a symptom of systemic neglect. In summary, we cannot expect veterans with mobility issues to come to us. We must go to them. Mobile outreach teams, digital connection initiatives, and local council partnerships can bring community support into the home. However, the reality is stark; many UK veterans with MSK mobility issues are suffering in silence. Isolated, excluded, and too often forgotten, they live behind closed doors while the nation they served fails to see them. Yet…with attention, compassion, and infrastructure, we can bring these veterans back into the fold. Not just out of obligation but out of recognition. Because they marched for us. They carried burdens for us. Now, it's our turn to carry them. If we claim to value service, then we must serve in return.

Tony Wright CEO Forward Assist

From Service to Statesmanship: Why Recently Discharged British Veterans May Not Yet Be Ready for Politics

In Britain, we rightly revere our veterans. The stoic dignity of those who’ve worn the Queen’s and now the King’s, uniform resonates deeply with the public imagination. They’ve stood watch in Helmand, patrolled Belfast, kept peace in Kosovo, and responded to crises both at home and abroad. Their service is beyond question. But their readiness for politics, especially immediately after military discharge, is in my opinion a different matter entirely. There’s a growing appetite, particularly in a post-Brexit Britain where public trust in politicians wavers, to seek leadership from “outside the bubble.” Veterans, with their discipline, clarity of purpose, and lived experience of conflict, often appear like the antidote to the murky, spin-heavy world of Westminster. But this romanticised leap from the battlefield to the ballot box is fraught with unexamined assumptions and very real risks. In the armed forces, command is clear, structure is rigid, and decisions can be life-or-death. But in the House of Commons? Power lies in persuasion, not position. Political life is messy, performative, and often painfully slow. Veterans emerging from military service may be used to direct action, politics is the art of indirect everything. Take the protocol driven culture of Parliament: honourable members, archaic procedures, the omnipresent whiff of centuries-old tradition. For someone who’s recently been in a forward operating base or on a naval/airforce deployment, it can feel more like theatre than governance.

Military service instils a deep moral compass, often honed in high-stakes, morally complex environments. But politics, particularly in the UK, is the land of compromise, party whips, and parliamentary arithmetic. It's where ideals are routinely bartered for votes, and where even noble intentions get bogged down in red tape and political calculation. A recently discharged veteran may still operate with the urgency and clarity of command but politics rarely rewards clarity. It rewards consensus. That disconnect can lead to frustration or a sense of betrayal, especially when trying to enact change within a system designed to resist it. Unlike in the US, the UK has a tradition of strong civil-military separation. Military figures are rarely political celebrities. While senior officers occasionally transition into public roles, think General Sir Richard Dannatt, it's not common for recently discharged service members to leap straight into Parliament. This cultural norm exists for a reason: democracy depends on civilian oversight of the military. Rapid entry of veterans into politics, without time to fully reacclimate to civilian society, risks blurring the lines between service and sovereignty. It’s not a question of loyalty, but of perspective. Let’s not tiptoe around it, many veterans leave service carrying invisible wounds. PTSD, operational stress injuries, and the jarring experience of reintegration into civilian life are common. Politics, with its relentless media scrutiny, adversarial tone, and institutional instability, is no sanctuary. If anything, it can reopen and intensify those wounds. A veteran’s strength is not diminished by acknowledging these challenges. But rushing into political life before processing them is dangerous, both for the individual and for the integrity of the office they hold. Leadership in the field does not directly equate to leadership in a constituency. Constituents don’t follow orders,they ask questions. They expect empathy, not authority. They require negotiation, not direction and governing a nation means understanding not just security, but housing, health, education, economics, and all the tangled complexities of everyday life. Many veterans could one day make phenomenal MPs, Ministers, or even Prime Ministers, but that journey should be guided, not rushed. Programmes like the Armed Forces Parliamentary Scheme enable civilian MP’s the opportunity to engage with the Armed Forces and gain an insight into military life so a veteran-focused mentorship for veterans considering a a career in politics might be a good start but it wouldnt be a fast-track route… just a foundation.

Britain needs leaders of integrity, service, and resolve. Our veterans embody those traits. But in our haste to celebrate them, we must not sacrifice due diligence. Not all readiness is visible in uniform and not all leadership is transferable without translation. So let’s give our veterans space to re-enter civilian life, to process their experiences, and to build a new kind of readiness. Not as warriors, but as statespeople. Not just with medals on their chest, but with policies in their portfolio. Because while the British public trusts its veterans, that trust must be matched by preparation, not merely potential.

Lets not forget that even Churchill had to lose a few elections before he won a nation.

Tony Wright CEO Forward Assist

Complacency Kills: The Men The Military Ignore

In the theatre of war, silence is not merely an absence of noise, it can be a weapon. It can be complicit. And it can be fatal. In the United Kingdom's armed forces, a grave silence still persists around a truth many refuse to face: male service members are also victims of in-service sexual assault, bullying, harassment, and discrimination. This is not a fringe issue. This is a crisis and complacency is killing people. We have, for too long, swallowed the lie that male soldiers are unbreakable. That their uniforms grant them immunity from trauma. That their masculinity shields them from victimhood. It’s a myth so embedded in military culture that even the system designed to protect its personnel recoils from the truth. Despite numerous reports, testimonies, and independent investigations, the Ministry of Defence (MoD) still refuses to adopt the term Military Sexual Trauma (MST), a well-established, globally recognised term that encapsulates the unique, service-related nature of sexual violence within military contexts. The refusal isn’t just bureaucratic stubbornness…it’s indefensible. MST isn't merely a label. It’s a framework. It validates the experience of victims, informs tailored support systems, and facilitates research and accountability. By rejecting it, the MoD isn't just avoiding a phrase. It’s avoiding responsibility. One of the most jarring, uncomfortable realities and one often overlooked even in conversations about MST is this: most male-on-male sexual assaults in the military are perpetrated by heterosexual men against other heterosexual men. This is not about sexual orientation. It’s about dominance, power, control, humiliation often wrapped in a toxic cocktail of hypermasculinity, initiation ceremonies and institutionalised silence. These acts are not anomalies. They are manifestations of a deeper cultural illness. Perpetrators may use rape or sexual violence as tools to reinforce hierarchy, punish, or "correct" perceived weakness. And when the victims are male, the shame is compounded by a society that tells them they can’t be vulnerable, that real men fight back, not report. The armed forces may have policies on harassment and assault, but when culture undermines those policies, they become performative gestures. When male victims fear reporting because they might be seen as weak, unmanly, or worse complicit, then the system is broken. When chain of command structures discourage open disclosure, or when complaints mysteriously disappear, we’re not dealing with isolated failures. We’re looking at an environment where silence is rewarded, and truth is treated like a traitor. Even worse, the public narrative tends to focus almost exclusively on female victims, who absolutely deserve attention, support, and justice, but male victims remain ghosts in the machine. Their trauma doesn’t fit the public's expectations and as a result it’s ignored. Make no mistake: this is not only a moral issue it is a strategic one. A force that silences its wounded is a force that bleeds from within. PTSD, depression, suicide, these are not just human tragedies; they degrade readiness, cohesion, and capability. The MoD's refusal to confront this issue honestly endangers the very thing it claims to defend: operational effectiveness. By failing to address MST, including male victimhood, the UK is not only failing its soldiers. It is undermining its own military. Complacency kills, not just on the battlefield, but in the barracks, the mess hall, the chain of command. It kills the spirit of the men and women who signed up to serve, only to be betrayed by the very system they swore to defend.

Tony Wright CEO Forward Assist

Frontal Assault: The Silent War Waged Within His Majesty’s Armed Forces

Trigger Warning: This piece discusses military sexual assault, trauma, and moral injury. If you are a survivor, please take care while reading. There is a kind of violence that doesn’t end when the bruises fade. A war that doesn’t stop with demobilisation. A wound that uniforms can’t protect against and medals can’t heal. It’s the Frontal Assault, the one that happens behind the wire, within barracks, within trusted ranks. It’s the assault that shatters more than bodies: it devastates identities, destroys lives, and leaves entire families in the blast radius. This is the hidden war waged through Military Sexual Assault (MSA), the enduring pain of Military Sexual Trauma (MST), and the moral wreckage left behind, Moral Injury. And when the system that swore to serve and shield becomes the very hand that harms, we’re not just dealing with abuse, we are confronting institutional betrayal. Military Sexual Assault in His Majesty’s Armed Forces is not just a regrettable statistic, it’s a betrayal of sacred trust. It is a violation in an environment where absolute loyalty and obedience are demanded, making it uniquely devastating. Assault in the military context isn’t just an attack on the body, it’s an invasion into the very meaning of service. Perpetrators can be colleagues, supervisors, instructors, sometimes even decorated leaders. And the victims? They span ranks and genders. Men. Women. Non-binary personnel. No one is immune, though some are silenced more than others. For male survivors, the code of silence is wrapped in toxic masculinity: “Man up.” For women, it’s discredited through doubt: “She wanted it.” For all survivors, it’s the fear of retaliation, career suicide, and worse: being ignored. Military Sexual Trauma (MST) is not a moment. It’s a lifetime. It follows the survivor like a shadow, through civilian life, relationships, work, and even parenting. PTSD, anxiety, substance use, insomnia, hypervigilance, these are the daily drills that trauma demands. Then comes the invisible war at home. Marriages crumble under the weight of untreated pain. Parents lose the ability to connect with their children. Veterans spiral into homelessness, self-harm, or suicide, not because they failed the military, but because the military failed them. Too many end up silenced in their suffering. Not because they didn’t speak, but because no one listened. What happens when the chain of command becomes the chain of denial? Survivors often face more trauma in reporting the assault than in enduring it. Disbelief. Victim-blaming. Reprisals. Lost promotions. Forced discharges. Whispers in the mess hall. And in some cases, complete erasure of the complaint.This is institutional betrayal, and it’s soul-destroying. It tells victims: “You are less important than the reputation of the institution.” It is the antithesis of honour. It is betrayal dressed in regalia. Moral Injury isn’t just a buzzword. It is the internal implosion that occurs when soldiers are forced to live with broken codes:

• “I swore to protect, and I was preyed upon.”

• “I was told to trust, and they turned their backs on me.”

• “I gave everything to the military and it took everything from me.”

This isn’t post-traumatic stress, it’s post-betrayal collapse. For many, the military isn’t just an employer; it’s an identity. When that identity becomes the source of trauma, it fractures something deep. Something sacred. The impact doesn’t end with the uniformed individual. It spills into every relationship, every living room, every moment of civilian reintegration. Spouses describe living with a ghost: a partner haunted by rage, numbness, fear. Children grow up with emotionally absent parents or worse, parents who implode under the weight of untreated trauma. Entire family systems collapse under a burden they never chose to carry. We talk about "supporting our troops." But who supports the families carrying the aftermath of an internal war no one talks about? The time for damage control is over. Survivors don’t need sympathy, not that they get it, they need systemic change:

• Mandatory trauma-informed leadership training

• Independent investigation bodies for all reports of sexual assault

• Lifetime psychological care for survivors and their families

• Gender-inclusive frameworks that validate all survivors

• A military culture that prizes courage, not cover-ups

Most of all, they need what the military demands in every other sphere: accountability.

Let this be said clearly: Surviving sexual violence in the military is not weakness, it’s a different kind of war. One that demands courage without weapons, endurance without armour, and strength in the face of profound betrayal.To the survivors: You are not broken. You are not alone. Your pain is not inconvenient, it is evidence. You are the truth-tellers in a system that has too long silenced what it didn’t want to see. To the system: Your silence is complicity. Your reforms must be radical. And your first act of courage must be to believe the people you swore to protect.

Tony Wright CEO Forward Assist

Older Combat Veterans in the UK Are Often Overlooked by Mainstream Support Services

Many older veterans experience Late-onset Stress Symptomatology (LOSS), where trauma-related symptoms emerge decades after their service. Mainstream services tend to focus on those with immediate or early-onset psychological issues, overlooking those whose symptoms develop much later. As a result, the mental health needs of older veterans are often not recognised or prioritised. Veterans who have lived for many years without displaying clear signs of mental health issues are often assumed to have successfully "moved on." Their coping mechanisms, such as maintaining employment or family life, may mask underlying issues. Support services may incorrectly assume these veterans are less vulnerable compared to younger or recently deployed servicemen and women. Many support services target younger veterans or those who have recently left the armed forces. Older veterans, especially those who served in conflicts like WWII, the Falklands, or the Gulf War, may not be aware of available services or may feel disconnected from them. Additionally, older veterans may not actively seek help due to stigma or the belief that their issues are not serious enough to warrant intervention. Support systems for veterans can be fragmented, with services tailored more towards recent conflicts and younger veterans. Older veterans often fall through the cracks of this system, as they might require a different set of services, including care for age-related health issues that compound trauma-related stress. As veterans age, mainstream services often focus on their physical health concerns, like mobility or chronic diseases, while overlooking the mental health aspects. This imbalance in healthcare provision leads to under-diagnosis and insufficient treatment of psychological conditions like PTSD or LOSS in older veterans. Older veterans may come from a generation that did not emphasise or accept mental health treatment. They might be less likely to self-identify as needing psychological support, contributing to their invisibility in mainstream service provision. The combination of these factors contributes to the marginalisation of older veterans in the UK's mainstream support services. Addressing these gaps requires targeted outreach, increased awareness, and tailored mental health services to ensure older veterans receive the care they need.

Tony Wright CEO Forward Assist

Broken Promises and Invisible Wounds: Disabled Veterans, Moral Injury, and the Consequences of Benefit Cuts

In a month punctuated by political posturing and fiscal tightening, the recent announcements from Shadow Chancellor Rachel Reeves and the Labour Party regarding proposed cuts to disability benefits have ignited both concern and outrage, especially among one of the UK’s most vulnerable and honourable communities: disabled veterans.

At the heart of the backlash is a chilling contradiction: on one hand, Reeves frames her proposals as part of a broader economic strategy aimed at “restoring responsibility” to the nation’s finances. On the other, the government continues to champion its commitment to the Armed Forces Covenant, a solemn pledge that those who serve, and particularly those injured in service, should never be disadvantaged by their sacrifice.

Yet if these disability benefit cuts proceed as outlined, many veterans may soon find that promise as hollow as an empty medal case.

The language surrounding these reforms is familiar; phrases like “tackling long-term economic inactivity” and “reforming welfare dependency” have become the go-to soundbites for fiscal hardliners across the political spectrum. But stripped of spin, the reality for many disabled veterans is far grimmer. Veterans who are already living with PTSD, limb loss, traumatic brain injuries, or other service-connected impairments rely heavily on disability benefits, not as a handout, but as a lifeline. For them, these cuts won’t just mean tighter budgets or skipped meals; they could mean losing access to essential mental health support, assistive technology, adapted housing, or carers. These are not passive recipients of public support, they are individuals who wore the uniform, risked life and limb, and now face a new, insidious threat: being financially punished for their service.

Perhaps the most corrosive effect of these proposed cuts isn’t economic at all, it’s moral. In military terms, moral injury describes the psychic wound inflicted when one’s core beliefs are violated, especially by institutions or leaders once trusted. For veterans, the notion that a grateful nation would support them in peacetime is sacrosanct. To see that social contract broken, by the very political class that invokes their heroism during election cycles, is an injury of a different kind. It’s the kind of betrayal that doesn’t just wound, it disenfranchises those that put themselves in harms way.

The sense of abandonment that may result from these policies has deep psychological consequences. Veterans, particularly those already wrestling with mental health challenges, are at elevated risk of suicidal ideation. Undermining their financial stability, removing the scaffolding that helps them function in civilian life, could push many toward crisis.

The Armed Forces Covenant is not just a token of appreciation, it’s a moral and, in many respects, legal obligation. It explicitly promises that “those who serve in the Armed Forces, whether Regular or Reserve, those who have served in the past, and their families, should face no disadvantage compared to other citizens in the provision of public and commercial services.” What, then, does it mean when benefit reforms disproportionately harm those who have served? Any party, Labour included, that supports such measures without a nuanced exemption for disabled veterans risks eroding the very trust upon which civil-military relations depend. The financial savings may be modest, but the cost to national honour and the psychological wellbeing of thousands may be irreparable. It is therefore imperative that Labour must clarify how these cuts will impact disabled veterans specifically. If the Armed Forces Covenant is to mean anything, protections must be carved out, clearly and publicly, for those injured in the line of duty. Policies that impact veterans should never be drafted without their direct input. Veteran charities, mental health professionals, and advocacy groups must be at the table, not after decisions are made, but before. The country’s covenant with its servicemen and women cannot be reduced to a line in a budget. If we ask individuals to sacrifice for the nation, we must honour that sacrifice, especially when their scars are lifelong.

Britain’s disabled veterans already carry burdens most of us can’t imagine. They should not have to bear the weight of broken promises, moral injury, and bureaucratic betrayal on top of that. The cuts may be justified by spreadsheets, but the consequences will be counted in shattered trust, deepened trauma, and, tragically, lives lost. If we truly value their service, we must do more than speak in solemn tones on Remembrance Day. We must remember them in policy, in practice, and in how we treat them when they come home broken—but still proud.

Because a nation that forgets its wounded warriors has already lost far more than money. It has lost its moral compass.

Tony Wright CEO Forward Assist

The Courage to Create: Why the Service Charity Sector Must Champion Its Innovators

In every sector, there are two kinds of people: those who follow the map, and those who draw it. In the service charity world, where lives, not profits, hang in the balance, the mapmakers are not just important, they’re vital.They are the innovators, the ones who dare to ask uncomfortable questions, challenge outdated systems, and design programmes not because they’re popular, but because they’re necessary. They’re the first to notice the silent suffering, the unseen communities, and the systemic blind spots that traditional service delivery often overlooks. They build bridges where others build silos. They trade safety for significance. Yet, paradoxically, these pioneers are often the least supported. Why? Because innovation, by its nature, is messy. It doesn’t come in polished proposals or safe metrics. It disrupts, questions, tests boundaries. But here's the twist: when innovation succeeds when a radical new idea proves its worth, it doesn't just change lives. It changes the entire sector. Here’s where the imitators come in. Once a bold new intervention is shown to work, be it a trauma-informed programme for veterans with Military Sexual Trauma, a peer-led therapeutic retreat, or a social enterprise that empowers through cooking or mutual support groups, others replicate it. And they should. Scaling impact is part of progress. But it’s the original thinkers, the doers who dare, who shoulder the initial risk, who navigate the resistance, and who light the path for others. Yet,we forget this at our peril. In today’s service charity sector, where funding streams are tight and results must be immediate, there is a dangerous drift toward safety. Organisations chase “good ideas,” but too few ask “who made it work in the first place?” The pioneers, ironically, are often left behind, outpaced in visibility by larger charities who adopt their models but never credit the source. This isn’t just unjust. It’s unsustainable. Without sustained support, encouragement, and recognition, our innovators eventually move onto other opportunities. Their ideas, their programmes, and their deeply personal missions wither on the vine, just as others begin to harvest the fruit. The cost? Stagnation. Repetition. A sector too busy replicating yesterday’s successes to meet tomorrow’s challenges. If we want to see real change; effective, adaptive, human-centred service delivery we must nurture the ones who dare to go first. We must fund the bold ideas before the data is perfect. We must listen to the outliers, the rule-breakers, the voices from the margins. We must honour the value of lived experience and the power of people who don’t just serve communities, but come from them. To support innovation is to invest in the future of the service charity sector. It’s to admit that while not every experiment will succeed, no progress happens without experimentation. It’s to build an ecosystem where the first follower is as important as the first leader,but never more so.than during an time of austerity. So here’s the call: if you're a funder, support the ones who haven’t yet made the headlines. If you're a policymaker, give the innovators a seat at the table. And if you're an imitator,borrow wisely, build respectfully, and credit always. Innovation isn’t just the lifeblood of progress. In the charity sector, it’s often the difference between surviving and truly living. Let’s stop celebrating impact without acknowledging the courage it took to imagine it.

Tony Wright CEO Forward Assist

The Officer Advantage: Why UK Military Charities Favour Leadership from the Top Ranks

Military charities in the UK exist to serve those who have served. Whether offering mental health support, financial aid, or reintegration programmes, these charities are vital lifelines for veterans and their families. But beneath the surface of their noble missions lies a stark reality: military charities seem to favour CEOs who are former officers rather than those who come from the enlisted ranks.

This phenomenon isn’t just a coincidence; it’s a reflection of deep-rooted hierarchies that extend beyond the armed forces and into the civilian sector. Former officers, particularly from the higher echelons of command, appear to have a distinct advantage when it comes to securing leadership positions within military charities. Meanwhile, enlisted personnel, those who have often faced the hardest struggles post-service rarely find themselves at the helm of these organisations. So, why does this happen? And more importantly, what does it say about the broader culture of military charity governance in the UK?

One of the most obvious reasons for this officer bias is the persistence of the Old Boys’ Network, a powerful and often unspoken system of connections that exists within elite institutions. Many former officers, especially those from Sandhurst or other prestigious military academies, maintain strong relationships with influential figures in business, government, and the non-profit sector.

These connections provide them with fundraising advantages, media visibility, and access to wealthy donors, all of which are critical for running a successful charity. When it comes to selecting a CEO, trustees (who are often former officers themselves) naturally gravitate towards familiar faces, reinforcing the cycle of officer-led leadership. Meanwhile, enlisted personnel, despite often having first-hand experience of the struggles that charities aim to address, are less likely to have these high-level connections. Their networks may be rich in camaraderie and ground-level support but lack the financial and institutional pull needed to rise to the top of these organisations.

Another factor at play is the perception of leadership ability. Officers are trained from the beginning of their careers to be decision-makers, strategists, and public-facing representatives. Their roles often involve high-level planning, diplomacy, and commanding large units, which can be seen as transferable skills for running a charity. Enlisted personnel, on the other hand, are frequently viewed (sometimes unfairly) as "implementers" rather than "visionaries." Despite their operational expertise, resilience, and problem-solving abilities, they are often overlooked for executive positions because they don’t fit the traditional profile of a corporate, style leader. This bias is evident not just in charities but across many sectors, where former officers transition seamlessly into high-paying executive roles, while enlisted veterans struggle to get past middle management.

In the charity sector, perception is everything; especially when it comes to fundraising. A former Brigadier or Colonel at the helm of a military charity instantly adds credibility in the eyes of high-net-worth donors, corporate sponsors, and even government officials.

This is partly because officers are trained in public speaking, strategic networking, and institutional diplomacy. They’re used to dealing with politicians, journalists, and corporate leaders, which makes them more effective at securing funding. Conversely, an enlisted veteran, no matter how competent, may lack the same polish or access to influential circles. The reality is, charities are businesses in their own right, and those who can bring in the most money often rise to the top.

This officer-dominated leadership structure raises an important question: do these charities truly represent the people they claim to serve? Most military charities exist to support those who are struggling the most post-service, and in many cases, this means enlisted veterans rather than former officers. Enlisted personnel make up the majority of the armed forces, and they are disproportionately affected by issues like PTSD, homelessness, and unemployment when military service ends.

Yet, when the leadership of these charities is overwhelmingly composed of former officers, there’s a risk that decision-making becomes detached from the realities of those most in need. While many former officers are deeply committed to supporting veterans, lived experience matters, and enlisted veterans often have a closer understanding of the struggles that frontline personnel face after leaving the military. Without diverse representation at the leadership level, military charities run the risk of prioritising what looks good on paper over what actually works in practice. To create a more equitable system where enlisted veterans have the same opportunities as their officer counterparts, several changes need to happen. Charity boards should actively recruit from diverse military backgrounds rather than relying on the same officer heavy networks. This means recognising that leadership skills come in many forms, not just those associated with officer training.

Many enlisted veterans have the potential to be exceptional CEOs, but they often lack access to the same career development resources as officers. Charities should invest in mentorship programs, executive training, and leadership development initiatives aimed specifically at enlisted personnel transitioning to the non-profit sector. Funders, donors, and policymakers need to challenge the notion that only officers can run successful military charities. Stories of enlisted veterans leading impactful initiatives should be amplified to reshape public attitudes. Military charities should be more transparent about their hiring and leadership selection processes. Publishing diversity reports that highlight the backgrounds of their leadership teams can help drive awareness and accountability.

In summary, the preference for officer-led leadership in UK military charities isn’t just an accident, it’s a reflection of institutional biases, old networks, and entrenched perceptions of leadership. While former officers undoubtedly bring valuable skills to the table, it’s time to recognise that leadership is not the sole domain of the commissioned ranks. For military charities to truly serve their mission, they must break free from the rigid structures of the armed forces and embrace a more inclusive, representative approach to leadership. Until then, enlisted veterans, the very people these charities exist to support, will continue to find themselves overlooked at the highest levels. It’s time for a change.

 Tony Wright CEO Forward Assist 

The Weight of War: How Generations Have Carried Collective Trauma

History is not just a series of dates and battles; it is imprinted on the minds and bodies of those who live through it. For those of us born in the decades following World War II, the scars of the past have been woven into the fabric of our existence, often in ways we may not fully realise. The sheer magnitude of loss, destruction, and disruption from the early 20th century onward created a world where emotional repression was not just common, it was necessary for survival. Between the end of World War I on November 11, 1918, and the beginning of World War II on September 1, 1939, the world had less than 21 years to recover from what was then called "the war to end all wars." But no true healing took place. Instead, the wounds of World War I festered, economically, politically, and emotionally, only to be torn open again by an even more devastating conflict. For Example; World War I (1914-1918) Over 20 million lives lost, with millions more wounded or permanently disabled. The 1918 Influenza Pandemic. As if war wasn’t enough, the world was immediately struck by a deadly flu pandemic that killed an estimated 50 million people, more than the war itself. The Great Depression (1929-late 1930s). Economic collapse led to mass unemployment, hunger, and despair, particularly in the UK, the US, and Europe. World War II (1939-1945). A war of total destruction, genocide, and nuclear devastation, leaving over 70 million dead. For our grandparents, there was no real chance to grieve. How could there be? With survival at stake, emotions had to be buried. Any sign of psychological struggle was often dismissed as weakness, especially among men who had returned from war. For our parents, growing up in the shadow of World War II meant being raised by people who had survived not one but multiple collective traumas. They had seen entire cities bombed to rubble, lost loved ones, and endured rationing, displacement, and the anxiety of war. Yet, they rarely spoke about their pain. This emotional suppression was not unique to individual families, it became a societal norm. "Keep calm and carry on" was more than a slogan; it was an emotional survival strategy. Our parents inherited this stoicism, learning not to dwell on hardship but to push forward, often at the expense of their own emotional well-being. Even after the physical destruction ended, the UK and much of the world never truly had a "peace day." Since 1945, Britain has been involved in conflicts across the globe, whether in direct wars like Korea (1950-1953) and the Falklands (1982), or prolonged military operations in Northern Ireland, Iraq, and Afghanistan. The weight of conflict has never lifted, and neither has the psychological toll. As children of the post-war world, we grew up in an environment where emotional expression was often discouraged. Our parents and grandparents had learned to suppress their feelings to endure the horrors of war, and they passed that mindset down to us. This manifests in several ways, for example; The “Stiff Upper Lip” mentality, a cultural expectation to endure hardship without complaint. Generational Detachment, difficulty expressing emotions, leading to strained parent-child relationships. Unspoken Grief, a reluctance to discuss past traumas, leaving younger generations to piece together family histories on their own. Chronic Anxiety and Depression, unprocessed trauma often leads to mental health struggles that are never properly addressed. The irony is that while emotional repression may have been necessary for survival in the short term, it has long-term consequences. When pain is buried instead of processed, it doesn’t disappear, it is passed down. The concept of intergenerational trauma, where trauma is inherited by subsequent generations, is now well-documented. Studies on Holocaust survivors and their descendants have shown that trauma can be transmitted through behaviours, parenting styles, and even biological changes in stress response. For those of us born in the decades after World War II, this means we may carry the psychological burdens of wars we never fought. We grew up with parents who were emotionally distant, who struggled to express love or vulnerability, because they had been taught that survival required emotional detachment. Even today, echoes of this trauma linger. Consider the anxiety and hyper-vigilance many people feel about global conflicts, even if they’ve never personally experienced war. The persistent sense of insecurity that pervades our societies, leading to political and social instability. The widespread struggles with mental health that can be traced back to generations of unspoken pain. Acknowledging societal trauma is the first step toward healing. While previous generations had no choice but to suppress their emotions, we live in an era where mental health is finally being recognised as essential. But breaking free from the patterns of the past requires active effort. In order to process trauma and heal we need to understand that much of what we struggle with today, whether anxiety, detachment, or difficulty expressing emotions, has roots in historical trauma. Unlike our ancestors, we have the freedom to talk about our pain, seek therapy, and cultivate emotional intelligence. Learning about the personal and collective stories of our families and societies can provide clarity and a sense of closure. Societies must acknowledge past traumas through education, memorials, and public discourse, rather than sweeping them under the rug. Governments and institutions must recognise mental health as a public health priority, especially for veterans, and all those affected by war.History has shown that true peace is not just the absence of war, it is the presence of healing. Since the end of World War II, the world has been in a constant state of conflict, whether through military engagement, political turmoil, or economic instability. While we may not be able to change the past, we have the power to shape the future. By acknowledging the weight of collective trauma and making space for healing, we can break the cycle of repression and create a world where survival does not come at the cost of emotional well-being. The greatest lesson we can learn from our grandparents and parents is not just how to endure hardship,but how to heal from it. Because only when we truly face our past can we build a future that is not defined by its wounds.

 Tony Wright CEO Forward Assist